


Spuffy One-Shots

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14755352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: A collection of my Spuffy shorts moved over from EF. This will include my first ever fic, numerous extra scenes and outtakes from Thing of Doom, and other bits and pieces (including shorts in the Cursed and Heaven Sent verses). Many are sexually explicit, but not all. Individual warnings on a chapter by chapter basis.Beta'd by Gort. (Unless otherwise noted)





	1. Evil Vampire

**Evil Vampire**

A/N: Rated E. An outtake from Thing of Doom. Warnings for explicit sexual content and threesome. 

Summary: Buffy, Demon, and William enjoy a little role play. 

****

Buffy clutched her stake tightly as she prowled through the cemetery. The night was so dark she could hardly see her hand in front of her face and was seriously risking tripping over something. Like her own feet in their extremely stylish and usually unaffordable footwear.

She scanned her eyes left and right because somewhere here, amongst the tombstones, there was an evil vampire doing very…uh…evil-type things. Of a sort.

There were two muffled snorts of laughter to her left and she whipped to face that direction, nearly falling over a chair, er, tombstone in the process.

“I know you’re here,” she called. “You big bad vampire. I’m totally going to find you and stake you because you’re so…bad.”

There was the pad of bare feet and Buffy felt her vampire tingles spread out across her skin. He’d moved closer, just within range of her Slayer senses. She turned to face the direction the vampire was in, swiveling as he prowled around her.

“Miss!” called out a voice. “Miss, do help me. The evil fiend has tied me up with some rather tight ropes and I think he means to eat me!”

Buffy wiggled her thighs together at the mental image of the vampire eating the poor, helpless victim. “Don’t worry, sir, I’ll take care of the menace.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss!”

“I expect you to be suitably grateful for your rescue.”

“Of course, whatever you desire shall be yours.”

Buffy was glad the helpless victim couldn’t see her feral smile. She had quite a few things she desired.

There was a burst of movement on her right and the vampire appeared out of the night, clad only in…um…nothing. Dang it, that wasn’t fair. He jumped on a chair, er, tombstone and crouched there, snarling.

Buffy backed away from the evil vampire and towards where she believed the helpless victim was. She raised her stake. “Beware, vampire, I am the Slayer, and I mean to dust you and rescue this helpless victim!”

“Hey! I’m not entirely helpless,” the helpless victim said. “He only tied my hands. Tightly.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow and the evil vampire shrugged a shoulder. A second later he growled louder, showing her he really was scary, and evil.

Jumping down off the tombstone, the wicked demon advanced on her. Keeping her stake ready, she backed up until she nearly stepped on the helpless victim, who was kneeling on the carpet, er, ground with his hands tied behind him. His hair was mussed and his glasses had slipped down his nose.

“Are you here to rescue me?” he asked hopefully.

“As soon as I deal with this evil creature,” she assured the helpless victim, who’d apparently been walking through a very dark cemetery with no shirt on. Buffy licked her lips.

The vampire drew closer, yellow eyes gleaming. A threatening growl rumbled from its chest and the helpless victim yelped and scuttled so she was between him and the creature.

The vampire pounced, but Buffy was ready. They traded a few quick blows, not to anything vital, before separating again. Her eyes were drawn to how very…erect the evil vampire was.  The fiend noticed the direction of her gaze and looked very smug about it.

How very big and, uh, bad of him.

Buffy nearly giggled but she caught herself, shook her head, and squared her shoulders.

The vampire charged again, but this time he grabbed her and pushed her against a table, er, sarcophagus.  The tip of her stake was over his heart. But, wow, he smelled really yummy, and his arms were really strong, and his cock rubbing against her belly felt really good.

The Slayer was defeated.

With a moan, she threaded her fingers into the hair on the back of the evil vampire’s head and brought her mouth to his. Her stake clattered to the floor.

Demon, er, the evil vampire, picked her up and set her butt down on the, uh, whatever the table was supposed to be. His fingers hiked her skirt up and ran over the lips of her sex. Finding her wet, he hummed his approval and knocked her knees wider apart so he could settle himself between them. Continuing to kiss her, he positioned the broad head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy. He pushed himself inside her, sighing in a way that didn’t sound evil at all when he was fully sheathed. Buffy adjusted to the stretch, slowly rolling her hips and whimpering at how wonderful it felt.

“Uh, am I going to be rescued?” the helpless victim asked from where he was still kneeling on the floor.

Oh, yeah. “In a minute, let me tame the big bad first.”

There was a shuffling sound as the helpless victim got to his feet. “You haven’t actually named it that, have you?”

Buffy giggled and Demon thrust hard, his hands on her hips keeping her steady. The giggle turned into a moan. “I mean the evil vampire that’s currently ravishing me.”

William walked over and leaned a hip against the table. He kissed her neck. “Next time you get to be the one tied up,” he whispered.

“Oh, totally, and you can save me,” Buffy turned her head and her mouth met his. She reached down and undid his pants.

“Maybe I can be the bad guy?” William asked.

To keep from answering she slipped her hand inside his boxers and firmly gripped his cock. William gasped and immediately quit with the questions.

Demon was swinging his hips in an easy rhythm and Buffy kept pace with her hand on William’s shaft.  William’s lips returned to hers. With a soft sound, Demon bowed his head and rested it on her shoulder while he gently mouthed her neck.

The door handle to the room rattled and the three of them froze as the lights were turned on.

“This one should be empty,” Wesley was saying to someone. He turned his head and his mouth dropped open as he caught sight of what was going on in the conference room.

Buffy didn’t even blush, but she smiled as Wes turned bright red. She knew how they must look, Demon naked and between her legs, William with his wrists bound and her hand in his pants.

With a huff, Demon went back to work. Buffy bit her lip and raised her eyebrow at Wes, who had put a hand out to keep whoever he was with at bay.

“Uh, carry on, then,” Wesley said and flipped the lights back off, missing one switch so there were a few bulbs left lit. The door slammed shut.

William, who’d had his eyes closed, popped one back open to look at her. “Are they gone?”

Buffy nodded. He was still hard in her hand. She let go to lick her palm and then returned to running it up and down his cock. William widened his stance and began thrusting into her fist.

Demon was grunting and slamming into pussy. She clutched him tightly with her inner muscles at the apex of each stroke. His thumb landed on her clit and began stroking it. Buffy gasped. Her stomach muscles tightened, her knees shook, and she came. Her pussy pulsed hard around Demon’s length and fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. William groaned against her lips, drinking in her pleasure.

Her hand was working William’s cock frantically. It bucked in her tight grip. Demon was still plowing into her channel, making her mewl as the pleasure started to build again.

“Oh god, Miss,” William panted. “Buffy, ohgodohgodohgod.” He came with a whimper, his cock jerking and covering her hand with his come. When he stopped spasming, she pulled her hand out and began licking off her fingers. William’s eyes got very wide.

Almost lazily she pushed with one foot at Demon’s hip. He paused and looked at her and William. With a smirk he stepped away from her, pulling his cock out of her channel. It bobbed in the air, red and demanding. William went to his knees in front of Demon and eagerly sucked Demon’s hard-on into his mouth.

Buffy stroked her clit as she watched her boys. Demon put a clawed hand on William’s head and cooed his appreciation. William was slowly working up to taking all of Demon’s shaft into his mouth. When his nose met Demon’s pubic hair, Buffy saw William’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed around Demon’s cock. She came again with a low wail.

William went back to bobbing his head while he caught his breath, then he repeated the process. This time when William deep-throated his counterpart, Demon came. Both his hands were on William’s head and his hips were moving in barely contained little thrusts as he spent his load. William was gulping to keep up with the come washing down his throat. Buffy peaked again, her legs clamping tightly together as she keened.

When Demon was finished he dropped to his knees and immediately used his claws to cut through the ropes holding William’s hands. He rubbed William’s wrists and quickly sniffed and ran his hands over William, making sure he was okay.

“I’m fine,” William said, pushing himself to his feet and doing up his pants with a slight grimace. Buffy would have felt sorry for him being sticky, but she’d had so much come on her thighs, and pretty much everywhere else lately, that she didn’t have any real sympathy.

Buffy stood up and Demon wandered off, probably looking for his clothes. She frowned at his back. At least she hoped he was.

William put an arm around her shoulder. “Dinner?”

“Didn’t you just eat?” she teased with a raised eyebrow.

William chuckled and pulled her closer, his lips hovered over hers. “Don’t worry, I still have room for dessert.”

There was a crash from the other end of the room. Demon was apparently not winning the battle with his pants.

Buffy rolled her eyes.

Boys.


	2. Cursed: We Weren't Going To Tell You

**Cursed: We Weren't Going To Tell You**

****

A/N: This is super self-indulgent. It's fanfic of my fanfic. It's what would have happened if Spike had found about Dru and Buffy kissing in Cursed. Rated T. Not beta'd. 

****

_Three days after the end of the body switching_

It still felt a little weird that it was night time and I was in my own body. Not that I was complaining that the body switching portion of my life was over, but I’d gotten used to being a vampire half the time. I’d liked being a vampire half the time. Now I was just Buffy again, with things like patrol to worry about.

Ugh.

And making reports to my watcher.

I was sitting slumped in a chair at the table in the library, with Dru in the chair next to me. She was sitting with her back straight and was wearing one of her more subdued black dresses. I was in jeans and one of my less wrinkled blouses.

We were giving Giles a rundown on what we remembered from being possessed by the ghosts. The Angelus stuff we’d gone over and over already, but since it’d happened on the hellmouth and affected the school, Giles had wanted to know everything about James and Grace. He was sitting across from us, dutifully making notes.

“You were in the music room…” Giles looked up from his notes. “James was about to shot himself, but Buffy, since you were in Drusilla’s body the gunshot and fall didn’t kill you and you were able to stop him.”

I nodded.

“Grace forgave James,” Dru said. “And let him know that she still loved him. It was sweet, like treacle. Then they…we…” she hesitated.

Giles’ pencil paused.

“Then we kissed,” I filled in. Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal.

There was the sound of a book hitting the floor from the stacks behind me and Dru. We both looked around. Spike was staring open-mouthed at us.

Oh, crap.

My eyes met Dru’s, we were never going to hear the end of this.

Giles was frowning in Spike’s direction.

“After that, Angelus walked in and you know the rest,” I quickly finished.

Giles nodded. “I suppose it is good to know the two spirits are at last at peace.”

“Yes, they deserve their happy little rest.” Dru brushed imaginary dust off her skirt.

“Very good, I will transcribe this into my private Watcher’s Diary. I will be in my office should you think of anything further.” Giles rose and left. Almost immediately, Spike vaulted over the railing and claimed an empty chair.

“Here we go,” I muttered.

Dru let out a very long sigh.

“So,” Spike said, leaning forward. “You two kissed?” His eyes darted between me and Dru.

“We were under a spell,” I told him.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, putting an elbow on the table and propping his head in his hand. “So, you two kissed?”

Dru and I groaned in unison.

****

_Three weeks later_

I was washing dishes and humming along with the radio while Dru dried. She’d gotten to like doing regular chores around the house and when we worked as a team, they all went faster.

Spike came in, carrying a bag with blood for the three vamps that were still occupying my basement. He made room in the fridge for the bag, closed the door, and turned towards the basement. He froze mid-stride as his eyes landed on me and Dru standing side-by-side.

“Good evening, luvs,” he drawled, leaning on the island, trying to look casual.

I traded glances with Dru. Anytime we were in the same room together, it was possible to see Spike’s brain whirring as he thought about me and Dru locking lips. I’d asked her earlier if he thought we didn’t know that he’d been jerking himself off in the shower over me and her making with the smootchies and Dru had giggled and giggled. He probably thought he was being sneaky.

“How’s it going, Spike?” I asked, smiling at him.

“Not too bloody bad,” he said. He drummed his fingers on the counter. “I don’t suppose you two would care to recreate the end of your little ghosty scene for me? I still have some questions…” he trailed off as I put a hand on Dru’s hip and pulled her towards me. “Oh god,” he whimpered.

Dru leaned toward me, amusement in her eyes. I parted my lips and so did she as her mouth hovered an inch above mine.

There was another whimper from Spike’s direction.

We turned our heads at the same time to look at him.

“As if,” I said.

Spike’s shoulder’s slumped. “It was worth a try.”

“Shoo,” Dru said, waving a hand at him.

He was literally pouting. “I’m just going to go have a shower then.” He turned on his heel and walked stiffly towards the stairs.

I put my head on Dru’s shoulder as we both shook with laughter.

****

_Three Months Later_

I was sitting with Dru on the couch in my living room as she showed me how to mend a seam. Her stitches were neat and even, while mine were…not. We had our heads together as I squinted at the cloth in her hands and she patiently showed me yet again how to do it, her needle flashing.

Spike walked in, Lorenzo on his shoulder. He coaxed the bird onto the top of her cage and picked up the remote, but he didn’t turn the TV on.

I looked up to find him staring at me and Dru. Seriously, the dude needed to let it go. I sat up and crossed my arms.

“Need something, Spike?” I asked.

Dru had her head tilted and her hands had paused. “If you want to ask something about Sunshine and Princess, just do it. We’re busy.”

Spike shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“Out with it,” I said.

“Er…when you two kissed, did either of you, even accidentally, touch the other one’s boobs?” He clasped his hands together and there was a hopeful expression on his face.

I rolled my eyes. “Spike, you are a boob.”

“What she said.” Dru’s tone was dismissive.

“Even a little bit?” he wheedled.

I frowned at him. “Are you actually planning on being able to sleep with me ever again in this lifetime?”

“Probably?” He suddenly found the crown molding very interesting. “I’ll just…ah…go have a shower.”

He nearly ran from the room.

“Is this ever going to end?” I asked Drusilla.

“No,” she replied and I slumped back against the couch with a groan.

“Bloody hell!” Lorenzo said from his perch.

I looked at him. “You’re not wrong.”


	3. Ugly Sweater Day

**Ugly Sweater Day**

A/N: This fic is a stand-alone one-shot that was written for an Elysian Fields holiday event in 2015. It's the second one-shot I ever published and is un beta'd, so there's probably some issues (I *know* I head jump at one point) with grammar. This is also my first published porn! Because I went through something like 4 months when I pretended I wasn't going to publish any porn while writing all the smutty scenes in _Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow_ (I thought I would never publish it). Obviously, I got over myself. 

I didn't fix the errors because it's neat to me to see how far I've come and it's good for my readers to know that I had a heck of a learning curve. (oh, okay, I might have fixed a couple while skimming back over it because that's REALLY hard for an author not to do!) 

****

Original Summary: Buffy needs a (pretend) boyfriend for an Ugly Sweater Party

Rated NC-17. Set during the holidays of S5 of BtVS. (So Riley is history and Spike knows he loves her). 

****

“I’ve changed my mind. ‘M going to meet the boys at Willy’s instead.” Spike’s voice was muffled behind Giles’ bathroom door.

Buffy huffed a breath, “C’mon, you baby, it’s not that bad. And this is for my Mom, and you promised.” The last was a whine.

“No.”

“It really can’t be that bad.” Buffy grinned, because, oh yes, it could. After Riley had run away to go play soldier she’d been left with no one to take her to her Mom’s Annual Ugly Christmas Sweater Holiday Party at the Gallery. All the Scoobies were out of town for the weekend. Giles was in L. A., chasing after some dusty book that might help in the fight against Glory. He’d given Buffy a key so she could water his plants, as he didn't know how long he'd be gone. Even Dawn had wiggled out of going, claiming her and Janice had to finish an ultra-important school project before Winter break started. A likely story.

Buffy absolutely could not go alone. The party was a charity event, and all the snobby rich girls she'd gone to High School with would be there.  Showing up stag would make her look like the loser she was starting to believe she might be. No job, not in college, no boyfriend.  It’d be nice if High School would stay where it belonged, in the past. However, since it wanted to haunt her butt, she’d been forced to do the unthinkable. She’d asked Spike to be her (pretend) date, and had even volunteered to buy his sweater so he didn’t have to worry about it. She might have been just this side of evil while shopping, but the bright purple sweater covered with adorable Santa hat wearing kittens, had simply screamed Spike to her.

“Please, I really need you in to do this for me.” She wheedled. In her hand she had a wreath pin with little lights that blinked, the perfect accessory to finish off her (pretend) boyfriend’s outfit. She wore the matching one on her red button down cardigan. The design was stylized reindeer and snowflakes, and she’d chosen it since the red would look good with her go-to little black dress.

There was a thunk from the bathroom that sounded suspiciously like a head smacking a wall. “Slayer, you will never, ever mention this ever again. I look bloody ridiculous.” Buffy chuckled, that was the point.

The bathroom door opened. Spike still had his regular clunky boots and slightly too tight black jeans on, but the sweater that was supposed to be hilarious wasn’t living up to expectations.  It wasn’t making him look silly, and Buffy wasn’t giggling at the inherent humor of a vampire wearing anything Christmas related. At the moment she couldn’t even talk, her mouth had gone drier than the Sahara.

The hem of the sweater hugged his narrow hips, while the part covered in frolicking kittens fit snuggly over his stomach and chest.  Her eyes continued to travel upwards, noting the way his shoulders filled out the fabric. The amethyst color of the knit made those blue eyes of his pop.  She should have bought a sweater four sizes bigger, for her own sanity.

“That bad?” he asked, his face falling.

“Er, no. Looks okay.” Buffy held up the wreath pin. Spike rolled his eyes, but leaned slightly towards her so she could attach it to him.  

 Forcing her hands to stop trembling she reached up and fasted the pin to the fabric directly under his right collarbone.  Her mushy mind had to snap back into focus when she managed to stab the pin into the pad of her thumb.  “Ow, damn it.”  She looked at her thumb, where blood was welling up and threatening to run onto her sleeve. Without thinking she jammed the injured digit into her mouth.

Spike made a strangled sound, and her eyes flew to his face. He was staring at her with naked hunger. Vampire . . .blood- she groaned. In response he hissed in a breath, while tip of his tongue flicked out to trace the bow of his lower lip.

Buffy wondered what the hell was wrong with her. Sure she’d been more aware of Spike ever since Willow and her stupid spell, but usually she just wrote him off as an annoyance. An attractive annoyance she couldn’t stop thinking about. There’d been that dream, and that other one, and the one with chocolate syrup. Oh, and the one after she’d looked through Anya’s copy of The Kama Sutra- but she had a sneaking suspicion that even a vampire and a very flexible Slayer couldn’t actually pull that position off

She was still staring at him, her mind unhelpfully providing her with images of all kinds of naughty things they could get up to in the bathroom. Her bent over the counter, skirt hitched up, looking wanton in the mirror as she writhed and moaned for a lover that appeared invisible. He could lie on the bathmat and she could ride him into the ground, hands braced on the counter and the wall by the tub to give her extra leverage.  The one that was really making her soak her panties was the picture of him chained back up the bathtub, only with less clothes on. She could torture him with her mouth for hours.

Buffy whirled and headed for the front door. “Coming?” she called over her shoulder, then winced at her poor choice of words.

Spike was dumbstruck. As she’d flounced away from him he could have sworn he’d scented her arousal. He looked down at the bloody appalling jumper that’d she’d dressed him in, and smirked. It was his new best friend. He didn’t know why Buffy had a kink for god-awful apparel, but he’d take what he could get and run a mile with it. This evening had just gotten a good deal more interesting.

****

The Gallery was sparkling with fairy lights, setting off the tasteful silver and gold holiday decorations that festooned every available surface.

As they’d walked up to the entrance Spike had tucked her hand into the crook of her arm, his fingers remaining to linger over hers. They’d rehearsed a little cover story about how’d they’d met, but both were hoping there’d be no call to use it, since it was tissue paper thin. Under only mild duress he’d also agreed to be William for the evening.

Once inside Buffy plastered a fake smile on her face and steered Spike towards the first painting she saw. They stood side by side, regarding it. Finally, Spike leaned over to whisper in her ear “What’s it supposed to be?” He was so close to her that his lips brushed against the sensitive whirls, making her suck in a breath as heat shot to the pit of her stomach.

“It’s abstract,” she whispered back. “I’m not sure it’s supposed to be anything.”

“Oh, well. Next then?”

She nodded, and they headed for a picture that at least seemed to be trying to represent something. A fire engine maybe, or perhaps a gaggle of baby geese, but only if you tilted your head pretty far over to the left and squinted.

“Buffy? Buffy- is that you?” said a saccharine sweet voice from behind her.

She turned, smiling in what she hoped wasn’t a too fake of a way, at the owner of the voice. “Oh, Samantha, it’s so good to see you! I don’t know how you managed to get away from New York.”  Spike took Buffy’s elbow in a steadying grip as the Slayer tensed up. She’d prefer fighting a Pus Demon to facing the designer wearing, professionally stylized, ex-Cordette in front of her. The woman’s “ugly sweater” was a silver affair studded with tiny snowflakes made out of what were probably real diamonds.

A dark haired, bored looking man in matching attire was standing next to the overly coifed Samantha. “Buffy, this is my fiancé, Mark. He’s in securities. I met him in Martha’s Vineyard this summer, it was love at first sight.” The girl leaned forward, giving an exaggerated conspiratorial wink. Mark just stood there, apparently used to being shown off like a prized pig at the county fair. “I see you’ve got a date too, Buffy, where  _have_  you been hiding him?”

Buffy took a deep breath. Here went nothing. “Samantha, Mark, this is my boyfriend William.” Spike’s hand moved from her elbow to rest on her lower back, rubbing little circles there. Her attention immediately refocused on what his fingers were doing instead of the swanky couple she was supposed to be talking to.

Samantha cooed at Spike and batted her obviously fake eyelashes. Mark, perhaps sensing he suddenly wasn’t the alpha male in this situation, stuck his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you Will, what line of work are you in?”  There was an underlying subtext of ‘whatever it is, I make more money than you.’

Spike took the offered hand, cold smile in place. “Well, nothing so fancy as securities, mate.” Samantha visibly melted at the sound of Spike’s accent, and Buffy had to work to keep a scowl off her face.  She put a possessive hand around her vampire’s waist.  Made bold by her touch, Spike couldn’t help but tighten his grip on the soft hand of the other man “More just security, you could say.” The corners of Buffy’s lips curled up in smug satisfaction when Spike let go, and Mark started surreptitiously rubbing his slightly squashed hand.

“It was nice to meet you,” the banker said, grabbing his fiancée’s arm, “now you must excuse us. I believe I see someone we haven’t yet said hello to.” He fled, dragging Samantha along behind him.

“Spike,” Buffy said once the couple was out of hearing, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“They’re not nice people, pet.”

“No, they’re really, really not.” She giggled and leaned against him. “And now they probably think you some kind of British secret agent.”

“That’s right, bloody James Bond here.”

“In an ugly sweater.”

“Whatever floats your boat, luv.”

Buffy’s mind took a sharp turn back to the bathroom, and Spike in the tub. He didn’t have to be chained- there could be water, and bubbles. And holy hell, vampires didn’t need to breathe.

Trying not to pant she tugged on his arm “We should mingle a little more.”

Once more Spike was sure she’d gotten all hot and bothered, and he couldn’t suss out why, except that they’d been talking about the hideous jumper again. It seemed the Slayer really did have a thing.

***

The next half hour was filled with the kind of torture hell would be proud to boast of. It was a never-ending parade of Samantha and Mark clones. Buffy’s cheeks felt tired from smiling, and her blood pressure was probably sky high from all the sideways insults about her body, finances, and intelligence that she’d had to field. Thankfully, once Spike spoke up, attention usually shifted to him. She knew she should be mad that he was apparently the most interesting part of her, but all she felt was grateful for his presence. As always her Mom was too busy trying to solicit donations to come to her rescue.

She wished she knew why the opinion of these snobby elitists even mattered to her. After all, if a horde of demons attacked, she’d be the one to defend their pathetic lives using a decorative silver candy dish shaped like a Christmas tree as a weapon. She stole a glance at the vampire beside her. Without a doubt Spike would be right there with her, backing her up against the hypothetical horde, wielding an elegantly stylized reindeer statue.

“Do you need a breather Slayer? If’n you want a minute we could head behind the scenes, or outside, let these wankers stew by themselves for a while.”

“Best idea of the night.” She took his hand and pulled him towards the back hallway of the gallery.

Spike’s cool fingers intertwining with hers was a major distraction. Once alone in the employees only hallway, she meant to let go. Only she didn’t. Instead she stopped suddenly and turned back towards him, bumping into his solid chest. Without warning, tears started escaping from her now overflowing eyes.

“Damn it!” She sputtered.

“What’s wrong?” Spike sounded alarmed, his hands came up to cup her cheeks, thumbs swiping at her tears. “Did I do something, luv? Or not do something?”

“It’s not you at all,” Buffy sniffed. She rested her hands on the broad plain of his chest, covering up several kittens. She rubbed a little at the knitted fabric. “I just hate people like these. Fake people. I know it’s silly. I despise them, but I can’t seem to not care about what they think.”

Spike dropped his arms down around her waist, pulling her close. “Believe me Buffy, I understand much better than you think.” His tone was heartbreakingly sad, and she looked up at him and the far away expression on his face. More tears ran down her cheeks, this time a few were for him.

Screwing her courage to the sticking place, she tipped up on her toes and brought her mouth to his.  Her lips brushed over Spike’s soft ones, but when he didn’t move after a few seconds, Buffy started to feel really stupid. She’d thought he’d wanted her, desired her. Apparently she’d been mistaken. This night was just full of win.  

Acute embarrassment suffused her skin, and she started to sink back down to her heels. She risked a look at his face from under her lashes. He was gaping at her, eyes wide.

She fidgeted within the circle of his arms. “Say something,” she mumbled.

“Oh, Buffy,” is was a gasp, a prayer. Strong hands encircled her upper arms and he yanked her entire body against him, his mouth slamming into hers. A cool tongue forced its way past her started yelp, sweeping around her mouth in broad strokes. She moaned into his mouth and tangled her tongue around his. Her fears evaporating at his obvious naked desire for her.

Her panting was loud in the hallway when he broke the kiss. “Need you, Buffy. Please, need you now.” He guided one of her hands to the bulge in his jeans, letting her feel his arousal. His hand fell away, but she kept hers there, exploring the ridged length of him. His hardness was her undoing. She’d wanted him before, but now, with her hand pressed up against his cock, the area between her hips turned molten. Wetness flooded from her, and she mewed as she pressed her palm against him.

His hips buck involuntarily into her hand. “Buffy, please,” he gasped hoarsely.  She took a step back from him, and his hand flew out to stop her from leaving, but she only turned to the side and twisted the knob on a door to open it.

“In.” She ordered. He didn’t need to be told twice. Buffy slammed the door closed to what turned out to be a supply closet. Spike was back on her in an instant. His mouth consuming hers, his fingers digging into her hips as he ground his erection against her stomach. 

When she needed to breathe again he switched his attention to her breasts. Flipping open one side of her cardigan he sucked at her already pebbled nipple through the fabric of her dress. She arced into his mouth, moaning her pleasure. He switched to the other side, biting with blunt teeth, making her shudder with the sensation. Fingernails digging in she clutched his sweater covered shoulders, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

He slipped one hand up her thigh, inch by inch, his icy touch sending shivers up her spine. When at last he reached the top, he teased aside the strip of lacey fabric, sliding a finger along her folds. She gasped, another rush of fluid joining what was already there.

“Buffy, luv, is this all for me?”  Spike sounded amazed, the proof of her desire erasing any lingering doubts in his mind about what was going on.

Her brain couldn’t form a coherent answer; lost to his touch she could only swiveled her hips against his hand.  When he worked his way up to run the pad of his finger in circles over her swollen clit, she cried out. “Spike!”

“God, baby,” he picked her up, hands cupping and kneading her ass as her legs gripped his waist. He backed her into the wall, kissing her mouth, her neck, her shoulder. “I want to do everything to you, give you everything. I want to spend hours with my face in your pussy, making you scream. When I’m done with you, wait- oh, who am I kidding- I’ll never be done with you. In the morning you’re not going to be able to walk, or remember your name-“

“Later,” she breathed, “In. Now.” Buffy wound her arms around his neck, bracing her back against the wall and jutting her hips forwards to rub the damp lace of her panties against the hardness behind his zipper, only pausing when he let go of her with one hand in order to undo his belt. With rapt attention she watched as he unsnapped the button on his jeans and lowered his fly. Aware of her focus he slowed his motions as he slid his fingers into his pants. She squirmed, impatient. 

Spike kept his gaze on her face as he brought his cock out of the confining denim. Her mouth went dry and her eyes widened, even as her pussy gave an appreciative pulse. Buffy had to acknowledge that her imagination had been rather limited, the reality was much, much nicer. He wrapped a hand around the thick base, pumping himself several times as she attempted to get a much needed breath into her lungs. Leaving one hand fisted in the hideous sweater, she used the other to rip out the crotch of her panties, giving him access.

The sound of the tearing fabric made Spike growl, his control threatening to snap. With a concerted effort he brought the tip of his swollen member to rub her clit, her head falling back and whipping back and forth against the wall as she pushed up against him to increase the friction. It wasn’t anywhere near enough.

“In.” She moaned, tilting her pelvis up.

He bent forward, slanting his lips over hers as he positioned himself at her entrance. Then he flexed his torso and speared her to the hilt.  She hissed a breath as his shaft stretched and filled her to perfection. Her inner muscles clamped hard around him, molding her passage to fit him like a glove. He pushed her harder against the wall, mouth still on hers even as their eyes met. The look of wonderment in her eyes was mirrored in his. Then Buffy gave an experimental roll of her hips and it broke the spell. He pulled back to he was nearly out of her, only to thrust back in with a grunt. The head of his cock grazed her cervix and her legs spasmed around him.

Spike pumped into her tight body, and she hardly registered that the squeals and cries of pleasure were coming from her own throat. Her heels pressed rhythmically against his ass in time with his thrusts, and her hands continued to wrap themselves into the knit of the sweater.

His mouth left hers in order to trail licks and kisses across her cheek and down her neck, nipping at the pulse point there. The feel of blunt teeth made her realize he was holding back.

“Spike.”

“Buffy,” he moaned in response against her throat.

“I’m not-,” she panted, “I’m not fragile. Slayer.”

His head snapped back up, and he searched her lust addled eyes, her dark pupils having swallowed nearly all the green. Then he smirked. His feet slid further apart and he slapped one hand on the wall next to her head to brace himself.  With a roar he vamped out, wild yellow eyes rolling in unadulterated bliss as he felt the answering rush of moisture from her slit wash over his cock. Buffy mewled and moaned, her hips undulating rapidly as he pistoned into her.

****

Insipid conversation in the gallery ground to a halt as the overhead light fixtures began to sway. The paintings rapped against the wall and a Champaign flute smashed to the floor.

Mark grabbed ahold of Samantha’s elbow, “What’s going on?”

“Oh don’t worry,” she said smoothly, “It’s just a little earthquake.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have come to this horrible place,” he groused.

“Don’t worry everyone,” Joyce said loudly, smile in place “It’s just a little Southern California flavor, it’ll be over in a minute or two. Now you’ll have a great story to tell about any pieces you buy here tonight.”

There was an appreciative murmur from the crowd, and renewed speculation of the unsold art work.

****

_More than two Minutes Later . . ._

Buffy bit down hard into her vampire’s shoulder, the chunky purple knit of the sweater stifling the scream as her pleasure crested, the orgasm making her vaginal walls pulse so hard she hazily realized she would have broken a human. Spike just snarled, and snapped his fangs millimeters from her wildly pulsing carotid artery. With a grunt she brought a hand to the back of his head, pushing his mouth against her. The tips of his fangs grazed her skin, and she yelped as an unexpected second orgasm rushed through her at the contact.

As the trickle of blood hit his tongue, Spike’s own release overtook him.  His back bowed with the force, his head falling back is a silent howl as waves of pleasure rocketed through him. Buffy was still shaking from her own releases, her pussy continuing to milk him as he spurted his cum against the entrance to her womb. The cool liquid filled her and leaked out in a sticky trail down her thigh.

Both were gasping, too shaken to move. At last Spike let his head fall back forward and Buffy slowly unlocked her legs from around him, lowering herself unsteadily to her feet. The bare bulb overhead finally stopped swaying, it’s light illuminating the stunned face of the Slayer.  

“Wow,” she breathed, “That, wow-“

“Not done with you yet, Goldilocks.” Her eyes snapped up to the vampire’s, renewed heat hitting her at his husky tone.  He chuckled at her startled look as he gracefully sank to the floor, pulling Buffy along with him. “Did you really think you’d get away that easily?”

She shook her head, grinning. He laid her out on her back, returning to nuzzle at the swell of her breasts for a moment, before continuing down her body. Spike hitched her skirt up around her waist, and she let her knees fall open. He cocked his head slightly, marveling at the sight of her cum slicked folds, then grinned wickedly at her. “Buffy, luv-“

“Yes?”

“It’s  _later_.” He leaned down, tapping his tongue against her clit before pressing his mouth fully against the lips of her pussy, reveling in their mingled taste and the cry of pleasure she gave. He worked his tongue deep into her as her hands fisted into his hair. She kicked off a pump, running her heel over his sweater clad back.

 

****

_Several hours later . . ._

It was a well satiated, if somewhat shell shocked and hoarse, pair that gingerly walked back into the Gallery just as the last of the guests were leaving.

Joyce turned to them, smile beaming. “Oh good, there you two are, you can help with clean up.”

They both nodded mutely, taking the cardboard boxes she offered them and starting to put away the decorations.

“What an amazing evening,” Joyce sighed, and Spike shot Buffy a sideways glance, enjoying the blush that stained her cheeks. “I was worried this year was going to be a bust, but that earthquake made everyone pull out their wallets.” Joyce frowned, “I’ve never known one to go on so long, but,” she shrugged, “I really can’t complain.”

Buffy furrowed her brow “Earthq- eek!” Spike had clamped his hand hurriedly over her mouth. “Don’t’ think we can complain about it either, pet.” He said quietly, adding when she gave him a confused look: “Wall.” He chuckled as her eyes widened in realization.

“Well, I’m glad everything went wall- I mean well. ” Buffy said weakly, turning to continue with the cleanup effort, her blush now ten shades darker.

As the decorations were stuffed into boxes and the art that was sold was put aside to be packaged and shipped to its new owners, the vampire and Slayer found every excuse they could to bump into to or brush up against each other.

By the time they were standing on the sidewalk as Joyce locked up the Gallery, both realized they were far from done with the night and one another.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Joyce asked, exhaustion evident on her face.

“Actually, think we could both use a walk after being stuck breathing the rarified air of those . . .” Buffy trailed off.

“Rich nobs?” Spike supplied with a quirk of his eyebrow. The Slayer scrunched up her nose and nodded.

Joyce sighed, relieved she could simply go home and straight to bed. She figured “use a walk” was code for “patrol the cemeteries,” so she didn’t say anything about a time for her daughter to be back by. Saving the world ran on its own schedule. “I’ll see you guys later then.” Her feet were dragging as she walked to her car.

Setting off towards Giles’ apartment, the two continued to find reasons to casually touch. As Buffy smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from his sweater for the thirtieth time, Spike clasped her wrist and towed her into the park they were passing. In the shadow of a tree he hungrily pulled her against him, his lips seeking hers.

She melted under his passion, her tongue dueling with his, her hands running over his shoulders and back.

He reared back away from her, just enough so he could speak, while his hands continued to roam over her curves.

“I have to ask, pet, what’s it about the jumper. Is it just this one? Do I need a closet of them? What about when Christmas is over?”

“Huh?” she squeaked as his nimble fingers found and tweaked a nipple.

“The sweater,” he said slowly, “Ever since I put the soddin’ thing on you’ve been all over me. Figured you must have some weird fetish. You can’t stop touching the bloody thing.”

She giggled “I can’t stop touching it because you’re wearing it, you idiot.” She smacked his chest, right over one of the festive Santa hat wearing kittens. “This sweater is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. That’s why I bought it.” Buffy giggled again at his annoyed expression. “Take it off.” She tugged the hem upwards.

He stripped the sweater off and tossed it upwards so it caught and hung in the tree’s branches.

Buffy’s eyes were wide and she was no longer laughing. Her hands splayed out over his chest. “That’s a lot better,” she whispered. She bit her lip and looked up at his heavily lidded gaze. “Now if I recall correctly, somebody promised me I wouldn’t be able to remember my name in the morning.”

“Or walk.” Spike gripped her hips roughly, his voice a growl. “ ‘M thinking you’d look right fetching bow legged.”

The tree shook as her back impacted the trunk, but the sweater stayed firmly lodged in place in the swaying branches.

Even a good deal of shaking wasn’t enough to remove it, and when sunrise came it was still there, bright purple arms waving merrily in the holiday breeze.

Giles’ bathroom wasn't quite so intact.


	4. A White (and Red) Christmas

A White (and Red) Christmas

Summary: Post Series. Spike and Buffy carve out some holiday time to themselves in an out of the way place. A little snow, a little blood...but who's that lurking outside the window? 

A/N: The other title for this holiday story is Angel Got Runover By a Reindeer. It's completely self-indulgent, complete with Angel bashing (literally). There's bloodplay of the "it's that time of the month" variety. And festive peppermint lube. Oh, and I tossed in a crossover for no good reason with a different franchise. 

Explicit rating for sexual content and there's some violence. Also, terrible holiday puns.

****

It was Christmas Eve. Buffy, wearing a short green robe and toweling her hair dry, exited the bathroom and walked into the living room. The tiny cabin, nestled in the mountains around Lake Tahoe, was Christmas card picture perfect.

Cheery fire? Check. Festively decorated tree? Check. Stockings hung with care? Check. Presents, flickering candles, snow falling outside the window? Check, check, and check.

“Hello, luv,” Spike purred. Her eyes went to where he was sprawled naked on the couch, which was currently draped in a red blanket it hadn’t been earlier. He pointed to his head, on which rested a Santa hat. “I got dressed.”

“I see,” she said, rolling her eyes. Cheesy yet sexy vampire husband? Check. Her gaze darted downward. Big check.

Since they’d arrived three days ago, Spike had adamantly refused to put a stitch on. It’d been her idea that they spend the holidays together, just the two of them, and Spike had made the arrangements. She loved her friends or family, but since Spike and she had gotten married—to absolutely no one’s surprise except Angel’s—back in June, they’d hardly had two seconds to themselves. They may have consummated their marriage in record time (they’d walked together out of the hall, straight to the coat closet), but then it’d been one slaying crisis after of the other and they’d both felt like they’d had very little time to be a couple.

So, they’d carved out two weeks to themselves, celebrated an early Christmas with Dawn and the scoobies, and hightailed to the cabin where Spike had promptly discarded his clothing. Not that she was complaining.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked, eyeing Spike where he was sitting, legs splayed and thick, hard cock curving up onto his belly. Desire was clawing at her and her nipples had turned into hard little points that were obviously visible through her robe, judging from the way Spike was staring at her breasts.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “I think you know. Christmas came a day early for ole Spike.”

She sighed. Of course the vampire with the preternatural senses would know her period had started.

Spike looked gleeful. It was his favorite damn time of the month. Though all the orgasms did seem to help prevent cramps. Arguing with him about how it wasn’t exactly blood—to which he pointed out he was the vampire and therefore the expert—along with any other qualms she’d harbored, had steadily been tossed out the window over the last several months. He just had so much fun, and was so happy…and he made her feel really loved and good about herself, so there wasn’t a downside except that society would think they were weird.

Not that a Slayer ever had any wiggle room in the weird department in any aspect of their lives, and everything she and Spike did together and enjoyed was no one’s business but their own. She just hoped she never had to sit down and make an actual list…half of their regular repertoire probably didn’t even have names.

“Robe off, kitten.”

She dropped it to the ground, enjoying the way Spike’s eyes drank her in and his cock twitched. He absently rubbed his palm against it before dropping his hand down to cup his balls. His tongue curled behind his front teeth as he watched her.

She moaned even though she was still across the room from him. Her eyelids drifted down and she pressed her thighs together.

“I am so going to deck your halls,” he drawled.

Wait…what?

Buffy’s eyes flew open.

“That’s right.” He jerked his chin at her. “Then I’m going to stuff your stocking.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, going to cram that stocking full, baby.”

She was going to kill him, er…later, post-stocking stuffing.

“And I know you want to jingle my bells.” He fondled his scrotum a little rougher.

Well…what if she did?

“Why don’t you come over here and we have ourselves a merry little Christmas?”

She snorted but took a few steps towards him. “You’re impossible.”

He let go of himself and held up both hands, pointing at his wedding ring with his right index finger. “You married me!” He grinned. “Joke’s on you!”

Buffy laughed. “I don’t remember agreeing to terrible holiday related innuendos. I remember all kinds of things being in my vows, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t one of them.”

“I’m sure there was something close enough.” He dropped his hands and felt around on the blanket, tossing whatever it was he found at her. “Early present.”

She caught the object, which turned out to be a small bottle. “Candy cane lube?” She raised an eyebrow at Spike. Obviously, he thought he was being cute, which he kind of was. Damn him.

“Part of the stocking stuffing.”

“Of course.” She pouted at him and crawled onto the couch, straddling his lap.

His nose flared again. “Don’t you smell a treat?” His hands gripped her hips and she hungrily brought her mouth to his. God, he tasted good and every time he kissed her it felt like she was being worshiped. Spike was always so intense and she craved it. Craved him.

She dropped the lube bottle beside them and slid her hands into his hair. Their tongues tangled fiercely as one of Spike’s hands worked its way down to knead her ass. She was whimpering and rocking against him, uncaring of where her blood ended up. Spike wouldn’t care, either. Though she’d just started so her flow would still be pretty light.

Spike tried to break the kiss and she bit his bottom lip, keeping him still as she nibbled it. His groan was loud and low in his throat.

At last, she let him go and moved her hands to his broad shoulders, leaning back so he could pay attention to her breasts. He closed his lips around a nipple and sucked, and she hummed her approval. He teased the other side with his fingers, pinching and rolling it. Pleasure traveled in white-hot bolts from the tips of her breasts to her core, igniting every nerve ending she had along the way.

“Spike,” she whimpered, biting her lip and squirming against him. Her pussy was aching and slick with wanting, probably mixed in with her blood. Spike’s hand left her breast and delved between her thighs. He teased her clit briefly, then stroked his fingers through the wetness of her desire. Her whole body undulated, and she mewled.

“There, there, kitten, it’s okay. I got you. I just need to get your cream.” His fingers were bloody when he brought his hand up between their bodies. He swirled his index finger around her nipple, then quickly cleaned his hand with his tongue. He laved her breast and she dug her nails into his shoulders and pushed her chest forward.

Spike growled happily and continued to work her nipple with his tongue. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. His demon was flirting with her, appearing just under his skin, making the muscles tense and his eyes flicker yellow.

She cupped his face with her hands and he gazed up at her from where he was sucking on her breast. The sight itself pushed her further towards a climax.

“It’s okay,” she panted. “The demon is okay. Want it. Want all of you.”

There was a question in his eyes.

“I’m sure. Please. Spike!” She moaned the last and Spike let his demon free. His face shifted and changed as she ran her fingers over the ridges of his brow. His fangs were sharp on her breast and she gasped at the combination of pleasure and pain.

“My Buffy,” Spike snarled.

“Yes,” she gasped. She was. She very much was.

Spike’s claws dug into her and he kissed her again, wild and passionately. It was impossible for her to even begin to describe how much she needed him like this. Spike had tried to explain to her once how the demon, which had willingly caged itself to be hers, had, now that she’d publicly declared he was hers and she his, summarily turned a great deal of its hunting instincts to protection and possession of what it considered its mate.

He was like a (barely) domesticated wolf.

She adored it, reveled in it, lived for the moments when she could let go and just belong, body, mind and soul, to someone who loved and treasured her. In her demon’s arms, the world couldn’t touch her and she was safe. Buffy knew no one would ever understand her need to let go and just be except maybe Spike himself. He seemed to get it, which didn’t really surprise her.

It was part of what she loved about him.

Growling loudly, Spike broke the kiss and swung her off his lap onto her knees on the couch. He ran the tip of a claw down her back as he shifted so he was kneeling behind her. His hand disappeared for a moment and she could hear him squeezing the bottle of lube.

Oh, yum, it really did smell like candy canes.

Her toes were curling in anticipation and her breath was hard to catch.

A clawed hand gripped her hip and he smacked her ass sharply, making her gasp, before running the head of his cock between her ass cheeks. He did it several times, dumped more cold lube on her—which made her flinch but she’d been unable to train him to not do that, letting her warm it first would be nice—and positioned himself so he was pressing the tip of his dick against her anus.

He paused. “Buffy?” His voice was raspy and slightly slurred by his fangs.

It was their ritual. It didn’t matter how carried away they were, he always stopped right before penetrating her and asked. It acknowledged where they’d been as well as how far they’d come together. Always together.

“Yes,” she said.

Spike grunted happily and pushed forward, breaching her and making her suck in a ragged breath. Ouch. Her fingers dug into the couch. He paused with several inches in, giving her time to adjust. The pain was welcome, was real, it highlighted the pleasure.

Being a Slayer was a little odd.

She relaxed, and Spike pushed himself in to the hilt in her ass. They both moaned.

A smile curled the corners of her mouth up. How they must look, Spike wearing his santa hat and demon face, her biting her lip with blood on her thighs and a look of ecstasy on her face from her husband’s cock being shoved up her ass.

Spike began thrusting, his movements short and sharp.

She mewled and wriggled, pleasure starting to build. Spike’s arm wound around her and pulled her upright against him. He slid one hand down to her pussy, his palm rough on her clit as he pushed two fingers inside her. The fingers of his other hand pulled her hair to one side, then traced over her lips. She opened her mouth and sucked them in. They tasted faintly of peppermint from the lube and she eagerly lapped it off.

Spike paused as a contented noise rumbled through his chest. He licked the nape of her neck and gently settled his fangs against her in an open-mouthed bite.

He was in her, around her, and she relaxed against him, happy to be his.

Both of them could bask in the other for only so long before instinct took over again. Spike plunged his cock in and out of her ass in time to her heartbeat while his hand rubbed her clit. Her inner muscles clamped down around his fingers until he was barely able to wiggle them.

The muscles of her belly tightened, her thighs shook, and she came with a soft cry. Her entire body seemed to pulse and glow as the pleasure washed through her in waves.

Spike groaned, but his rhythm didn’t falter. He did pull his hand from between her legs and she could hear him lapping her juices and blood from his fingers. She suckled harder on the fingers in her mouth, enjoying the half-voiced curses and faint snarls coming from her vampire.

His hand went back to her pussy and from the way he was beginning to lose any finesse in his movements she knew he was close. Not that their night would be over anytime soon. Spike was always good for multiple goes, but when she was menstruating he came harder and more often, high on her blood. She loved every minute of it.

She reached back and grabbed his ass, the strong muscles bunching and clenching with each stroke. She was rapidly going back up and she dug her fingernails into his rear as she peaked again, harshly barking out her pleasure.

Spike grunted and pulled his fingers from her mouth to grab her hip and from between her legs to suck on again. His rhythm became ragged, he plunged deeply into her ass twice more and came with a roar.

They panted together for a minute, both slowly spiraling back to earth, then Spike pulled out of her and flipped her over.

“Lean back and open up for me,” he gasped, his eyes hooded and the demon gone. Buffy reclined against the arm of the couch and spread her legs wide. Spike, cleaning himself off with a rag, tilted his head and gazed in rapture at her pussy.

He tossed the washcloth away and stretched out on the couch, his head between her thighs. His santa hat was still in place, making him look like debauched elf. 

“Christ, Buffy, I love you so god damned much.” He delicately circled her clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Love you, too, husband,” she said, fisting the blanket laid over the couch.

“I never get tired of hearing that, but now it’s time for Santa to get his milk and cookies.”

She groaned and dropped her head back against the arm of the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“You already said that, lamb.”

She had? Drat. She’d forgotten with all the stocking stuffing that’d been going on.

****

The night was cool and crisp. Angel had been forced to hike an awfully long way from where he’d left his rental car parked on the shoulder of the two-lane highway that led past the gravel road the cabin Spike and Buffy had rented.

Angel had been worried about her, running off to the middle of nowhere with Spike instead of spending the holidays with her friends and family. None of them had seemed concerned about it either, which only made him think more and more that Spike had done something to her. The whole thing made no sense. Sure, he’d been at the wedding, had been Spike’s best man for pete’s sake, but he’d kept waiting for Buffy to wake up and realize what she was doing.

Instead, she’d just looked ecstatic or terrified the entire time, occasionally both, and had she and Spike really needed to screw in the closet two seconds after saying their vows?

Angel had spent most of his time trying to figure out if she was thralled—maybe Spike had learned from Dru?— or under a spell, or whatever else outside influence was making her believe she wanted to be married to Spike. Only he’d come up empty-handed and Willow had started giving him side-eye by the end of the night from the number of times he asked her to check something for magical residue.

Every day since then, Angel had expected to hear about her and Spike breaking up or divorcing. But word had never come and the next thing Angel knew, it was all getting worse as they ran off alone for Christmas. Why the hell would Buffy want to do that? Unable to come up with a plausible explanation besides that she was being forced, Angel had called in a couple of favors, found where she and Spike were holed up and rode off into the post-sunset to save her.

The cabin was at last in sight, sitting in a clearing among the pine trees and looking like something out of Christmas dream with its mantle of snow, the smoke curling from the chimney, and the twinkling white holiday lights girding its eves. Something inside Angel twisted. It was too nice a setting for whatever trickery Spike was up to. Buffy didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Angel paused and adjusted his coat, mentally trying to prepare himself for whatever he would find. He wondered if Spike had found a way to evict his soul and dragged Buffy out to the boonies to slowly drain her dry? Chaining her up like he had so many victims and emptying her drop by drop, feeding on the fear as much as the blood. Angel didn’t know if he could take it, seeing her like that.

If she was already dead…

Angel shuddered. Revenge would be sweet and he could dwell on the pain of her loss later, sometime after he’d berated her Watcher and friends for allowing this travesty to occur in the first place.

Cautiously, he approached the window of the cabin and peaked through the frost-rimmed panes.

Oh shit.

He ducked down.

Spike had been wearing his demon features and there’d been blood on his lips. It was as bad as Angel had feared.

He carefully rose back up to peer at the couple inside again. It took a minute for him to start putting the pieces together of what he was seeing.

Spike, a santa hat on his head, was behind Buffy, who had her eyes closed and appeared to be nearly in another dimension of bliss. Spike had one hand cradling her face with a couple fingers in her mouth that she’d closed her pink lips around and was sucking on. His other arm was wrapped around her and the hand between her legs, petting and…

Angel abruptly figured out Spike was sodomizing her. Not that Buffy appeared to mind. Her hair was pushed to one side and Spike had a grip on the base of her neck with his fangs. The whole picture was one of primal possession.

Jealousy rippled through Angel. Buffy had belonged to him first, damn it. Who was Spike to think he owned her?

Angel’s mouth fell open as Spike took his hand from between Buffy’s thighs, his fingers slick with dark blood. She was menstruating? Angel could remember the lush, ripe, mouthwatering scent and nearly lost control of his demon as he watched Spike release Buffy’s neck and rapturously lick his fingers.

Buffy’s head lolled back and her hips rolled in little circles. Spike returned his hand to her cunt, fingering her while he fucked her ass. It was like some vampire porno. The smell of sex in that room had to be intoxicating and Angel was pissed all he could scent was snow and pine trees.

Part of him wanted to break through the window and stop them. There was no way Buffy, who’d always been such a good girl, could be doing this voluntarily, but Spike’s fangs were too close to her throat. If Angel disrupted them, Buffy could be dead in moments.

A tiny bit of him was whispering that it was hot and he could just watch a little while longer…

Angel’s brows drew together as Buffy reached a hand back to grip Spike’s ass, obviously encouraging him. It broke the spell for Angel and abruptly he remembered where he was.

Cursing, Angel sat down on the ground beneath the window, uncaring about the snow. He dropped his head into his hands and fought to get his demon under control. It was running away with him and his own dick was hardening from the sheer exoticness…wait, no. It was disgusting and most certainly not a turn on to see Spike fornicating with Buffy.

He winced. It wasn’t even fornicating. They were married.

There was something really wrong with Buffy.

Angel sat, hunched up, for quite a while, before he dared to look again.

The scene had changed. Buffy was reclined on the couch, her thighs splayed wide while Spike had his head between them. There was blood on his face and the inside of her thighs and Spike looked like he’d won the lottery.

Fucking bastard.

Angel spun away from the window and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as if he could rub away what he’d just seen.

There was the sound of bells, then a thud as something landed on the ground. Angel looked up.

What the hell?

Midway between the cabin and the trees was a huge, hulking shape. It strode forward and came into the light coming from the cabin’s window. It was the largest reindeer Angel had ever seen, standing at least seven feet high at the shoulder. Its dark coat was shaggy, its cloven hooves massive, and its eyes gleamed with malevolence. Spittle leaked from its mouth to drip on the snow as it snorted and huffed. Its antlers were huge and curved, ending in a forest of deadly looking points. But the creature's nose …glowed bright red, coating everything around the animal with a blood red patina.

Angel stood and the reindeer lowered its head, the immense muscles in its shoulders bunching as it prepared to charge.

Angel ran. How was he supposed to fight something like that? The ground shook as the reindeer bore down on him, head lowered. At the last second, Angel threw himself to the side and the deer thundered past. It turned surprisingly quickly, bellowing its frustration.

Scrambling to his feet, Angel tried to run again, but the reindeer was on him instantly. Its antlers caught him in the ass, goring vicious holes through his jeans and into his muscles, twin points of sharp pain. Then he was flying through the air. Pretty stars in the sky.

He hit the ground with a sickening and painful crunch and rolled, ending up face first in the snow. The reindeer was charging for him again and Angel tried to get up, but his legs weren’t cooperating. He managed to get his arms under him but was unable to even start to drag himself away before the deer’s enormous feet landed on his back. Ribs snapped under the crushing weight of the animal’s hooves. First its front feet, followed by its back. The last one felt like a deliberate insult.

Groaning in agony, Angel looking around for the goddamned reindeer that’d run him over.

There was a second bellow and he was lifted into the air again, one of the antler points piercing him far too close to his heart for comfort. He wouldn’t die from the horn itself, but if his heart was ripped from his chest, he’d be so much dust.

He landed on his back beside the front porch of the cabin.

“Angel?” a soft voice said in complete bewilderment.

“Buffy,” he croaked, turning his head to find the front door of the cabin open and Buffy and Spike standing there. Buffy was in an indecently short robe and Spike had pulled the Santa hat from his head and was holding it over his crotch. He looked as lost as Buffy. “Demon deer.” Angel pointed in what he hoped was the reindeer’s direction.

“Why is his nose glowing?” Buffy asked, squinting at the creature.

Spike laughed. “Were you trying to play reindeer games, Angel?”

Buffy elbowed him.

“What? He’s not dust, Angel will be fine.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,“ Buffy said under her breath.

“Oh, fine.” Spike didn’t look repentant, but he did close his mouth.

“Rudolph isn’t fond of peeping toms,” a voice, rough with a Scottish burr, said from the roof. A moment later an older man, dressed in a dark red santa suit, jumped down. He had grey hair, piercing eyes, and was beardless. The reindeer obediently trotted up beside him.

Angel stared. His head was ringing. He must have hit it rather hard when he’d landed.

“Santa?” Buffy asked.

“Close enough,” the man said. “I do like world peace and goodwill towards men, even if I don’t personally feel a lot of the latter.” He patted the deer’s neck. “Who’s a good girl?”

“Rudolph’s a girl?” Buffy was looking more and more confused and Spike, who was hiding partially behind her, appeared to not know if he should trust his own senses.

“Why can I hear two—” Spike started.

“Of course she’s a girl!” the red-suited man interrupted. “Have you ever seen a reindeer with it antlers in winter if it’s not a girl? No, you haven’t.”

“Oh,” Buffy said. “Um…did you need anything?”

“No, no,” the man said cheerily. “Was just passing by and the old girl here took offense to this berk watching you two through the window. Figured I’d let her have a little fun.”

Buffy and Spike’s eyes landed on Angel and he winced under their combined disapproving gazes, which jostled everything he’d broken and made him hurt.

“I’ll take him home,” the man said. “I think he’s learned his lesson.” The guy whistled and, from the roof, a sleigh appeared, moving on its own, and landing behind the deer. The man started placing harness pieces on the reindeer, who looked much less scary than she had earlier.

Angel wasn’t sure he’d learned any lesson, beyond don’t get gored by a reindeer.

Buffy took a step forward, her bare toes curling around the edge of the porch. She couldn’t go any further or she’d be in the snow. “Why are you here, Angel?”

“We’re all wondering that,” Spike muttered. Buffy shot him a glance.

“Buffy,” Angel started, then heaved a sigh. “I was…I was worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Why would you be worried about me? And worry is a phone call, not tracking me down and…doing…what you did.”

Angel managed to sit up. There were dark patches of snow from where he’d been bleeding from the holes in his chest and rear. “Look, you haven’t been yourself for a long time. You married Spike, you’re spending Christmas with him away from your friends and family. Obviously, Spike has done something to you. Thralled you, or put a spell on you…there’s no other way you’d be doing such…things, with him.”

Buffy blinked, but Spike appeared like he was ready to explode. His eyes were swirling yellow and his lips were compressed into a hard line. Angel glared at him, wondering what he’d do now that his game was up.

There was an amused snort from the direction of the guy in the red suit and the reindeer pawed the ground. Angel managed to shove himself, swaying, to his feet, ready to accept Buffy with open arms and forgive her.

Instead, Buffy broke out laughing. “Oh my god, really?” She turned and put a hand on Spike’s arm and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” she whispered. Spike relaxed a fraction. Buffy faced Angel again and put her hands on her hips, her eyes hard as they landed on him.

He gulped. She was really angry.

“I can’t believe you.” Her voice was a lash. Deep inside Angel something purred, it liked being wrong, being punished for its transgressions. “You know Spike doesn’t have a thrall and that he doesn’t trust magic. I don’t know why it’s so impossible to believe that I love him and that we just happen to get along together really well. He makes me laugh and I love how he loves me, in all senses of that word. He’s not forcing me to do anything. I married him because I wanted to, because it meant everything to me to stand up in front of all the important people in my life and show him and everyone else how important he is to me.”

She wiped her eyes and Spike reached out the hand that wasn’t clutching the Santa hat to his groin to rest on her shoulder. She covered his fingers with hers.

“And we had a holiday celebration with Dawn and Giles and the scoobies,” Buffy continued, “but then we wanted some time to ourselves, which has been in short supply this year, pretty much to do what you saw.” She made a face. “That’s really gross, Angel. I thought you’d gotten over that sort of thing.”

“Sod probably like the show,” Spike mumbled. Angel looked away, shame burning his gut.

“Angel.” Buffy’s voice was hard and sharp. “I don’t want to see you for a long time. I’ll forgive you, probably, sometime in the future. But you better never do this again, or I’ll forget how much I once cared for you.” The words were like a stake to his chest.

“Buffy, I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

“Try sorry, lad.” The man in the red suit came and put an arm around Angel’s waist. He smelled a little less than human.

Angel looked up at Buffy. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. Buffy deserved to be happy, even if he didn’t remotely understand how she could be with his idiot family member. He tried the puppy dog eye trick on her, which had always worked like a charm before.

She just shook her head and turned away from him. Damn. He was out of practice.

“That sleigh’s not too large,” Spike said. “How are you both going to fit in there?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the guy said. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

****

Buffy looked over her shoulder to watch as the reindeer and sleigh lifted into the air. A few snowflakes began to fall.

“That was unexpected,” Spike said.

“Yeah, I had no idea Rudolph was real, and a girl! The movie got it all wrong.”

Spike chuckled. “Not that. You telling off Peaches. Right treat that was. I liked it quite a bit.”

“Just how much?” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

He took his hand off the santa hat he was holding over his dick. It hung where he’d left it and Spike shrugged sheepishly. “A lot. Not a bad bloody Christmas present, if you ask me.”

“Spike!” Heat rushed to her belly and her toes curled. Her husband was insatiable, incorrigible, and some other words that probably started with ‘i’ and that she couldn’t remember at the moment. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his cock, tugging him back towards the inside of the cabin.

He followed obediently, slamming the door closed behind him once they were through

“I think I better roast your chestnuts,” she purred.

Spike grinned so hard his dimples showed, which always made her want him all the more. “Now you’ve got the spirit,” he said.

“I do.” She tightened her grip on his cock and he moaned. “I really do.”


	5. The One Where Angel Saves the Day

The One Where Angel Saves The Day

A/N: This was written for April Fool's Day several years ago. I'm obviously not too nice to Angel in this one either. Probably a T rating. Takes place during the S5 episode 'Shadows'. 

****

Angel was not having a very good day. He was knee deep in crap as it was and hadn’t needed Whistler to show up and tell him to drop everything and run to Sunnydale to save Buffy.

Anyone else would have had to fend for themselves, but it was Buffy. So like the good little lap dog Champion of the PTB that he was, Angel had immediately rushed off to rescue her.

Well, he’d tried to anyway. His ride was in the shop with a cracked head gasket and it turned out that trying to rent a car while there was a major tropical fish convention in town was almost impossible. At the seventh car rental place, a sketchy joint that shared floor space with a tanning salon, Angel finally hit pay dirt. They had one left.

The balding, middle-aged clerk grabbed the paperwork and ushered Angel outside.

“There she is!” The man exclaimed, like they were looking at a Kentucky Derby winning stallion.

It was a 1976 Ford Fiesta. A pink 1976 Ford Fiesta.

Angel ran a hand over his face. “Why do you even have this thing?”

“She’s in great shape! She’ll get you to Sunnydale and back with no problem. We got her as part of an auction deal and haven’t been able to bear to part with her.” The man twirled his pen around and shoved the paperwork at Angel. Before signing it the vampire subtly checked to make sure they weren’t standing in the middle of a crossroads. You never could be too careful.

Taking the keys, Angel squeezed himself into the car. The radio worked but there wasn’t a tape deck. Damn it, he’d been hoping to work on his version of ‘Mandy’ during the drive. He’d brought his cassette of Manilow’s greatest hits just for that.

The clerk knocked on the window. Angel rolled it down. “What?”

“Just so you know, she does have a bit of a problem getting into third gear. Sometimes you’ve got to give her quite a bit of gas.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. He tried to roll the window up but it wouldn’t budge. With an exasperated sigh Angel started the little car and drove off. Once on the street he figured out what the clerk had meant. The Fiesta did not like third gear. When he finally managed to convince it to switch, the car shot forward like a bat out of hell.

Great, he was going to save Buffy in a pink, pregnant roller skate that lurched like a drunken sailor. She’d better appreciate the lengths he was willing to go to for her.

****

Thirty minutes into the drive he was well out of L.A. and into the surrounding desert. The radio was playing country music. Something about a guy losing his truck, his wife, and his dog.

Mmmm, dog. That sounded good. Maybe a nice Pekingese, but then he’d probably just be hungry thirty minutes later. 

Angel groaned, he needed to eat. There hadn’t been much time between Whistler arriving and the vampire packing up and leaving. Somewhere there was a thermos of blood in the car. It’d rolled out of his bag at one point as he’d yet again convinced the car to go into third gear after a stoplight. Since then it’d been sliding back and forth as the little car whipped around corners. The endless clunking was annoying the crud out of him.

Pulling over to the side of the road he got out, yanked open the passenger door, and hunted around on the floorboard until he found it. The blood was still warm and he gratefully downed several large gulps. At least something was going right. He slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver’s side.

There was a flash of headlights and the blare of a horn as some jerk-off in a black Viper whipped by going at least a hundred and ten. Angel was forced to jump back against the Fiesta to get out of the way. He banged his elbow on the side of the car hard enough that the thermos dropped out of his fingers. It hit the ground and the rest of the contents landed on his jeans.

Wonderful. He couldn’t show up in Sunnydale covered in blood. Giles would think he was Angelus and stake him before he got three words out. There was a some podunk town 30 miles ahead that he could stop in and buy new jeans. His face set in a resigned expression, he wedged himself back behind the wheel and stuck his arm out through the still-open window. The Fiesta seemed to protest with extra fervor as he pushed it through its gear change.

****

The only store in the little town that was both open and sold clothes was Wal-Mart. Angel was almost sure Wolfram & Hart owned a very large interest in the chain and he could think of thirteen different hell dimensions he’d rather visit than the vast cavern of the store. The fluorescent lights always made him look extra dead.

Moving as quickly as he dared he headed for the men’s clothing section. There was a decided lack of choice. As he searched in vain through the racks he heard a giggle. Glancing up, he found two women ogling him. One had a unibrow and the other was wearing pink fuzzy bunny slippers. They were staring and twittering behind their hands. He would have been able to hear their stage whispers even if he wasn’t a vampire.

“You don’t see many like that around here!” Bunny-slippers said.

Unibrow giggled again. “He’s so dreamy. I bet he’s a F.B.I. agent here to check out the compound.”

“I’m going to go talk to him.” Bunny-slippers started in his direction.

Keeping his features schooled so as to not show his terror, Angel grabbed a pair of blue jeans and fled.

****

The jeans were rough and bright blue. He hated them. His demon was convinced they were actually a torture device and was rather excited at the possibilities. Thankfully, the soul kept him from stripping them off and running around in his underwear.

Hunger had started to creep up on Angel again. He was only thirty minutes from Sunnydale but he found himself taking another exit. He needed something warm to fill the empty space inside.

There was one easy way to do that, though he’d never admit it to Buffy or any of the members of Angel Investigations. 

The Fiesta’s engine sputtered as he pulled up to the speaker.

“Hi, welcome to Starbucks!” an overly cheery voice greeted him.

Angel darted his eyes left and right, making sure there was no one eavesdropping. He cleared his throat. “Quad venti caramel macchiato extra-hot with soy milk, ten pumps vanilla, and extra whip.”

“Coming right up! Please pull forward.”

Angel’s mouth was already watering.

****

Sunnydale Memorial loomed in front of him. This was where Whistler had said he’d find Buffy. He slowed down to the crawl, slurping the last of his coffee before stowing the incriminating cup under the front seat.

A familiar head of bleached blond hair caught his eye. Angel pulled up to the curb. What was Spike doing here? His mouth fell open as his Grandchilde shifted to the side and he could see that Buffy was standing there as well. She looked like she was crying. Spike would perish for upsetting his girl! Angel tensed, his hand of the door handle as he prepared to launch himself out of the Fiesta, dust Spike, and swoop Buffy up into his arms.

The door lock popped as he pulled the handle. He glanced one more time out his window and froze. Spike was wiping away Buffy’s tears. The boy gathered Buffy against him, patting her gently on the back while she sobbed into his shoulder. Spike was…comforting Buffy, and she was letting him. Anger blazed up inside Angel. He lost control of the demon and his face shifted with a roar. He gunned the engine and took off, unable to stand looking at the tender moment one second longer.

The Fiesta’s gearbox groaned as Angel attempted to force it to obey. When it finally jumped into third the car careened forward, nearly out of control. Distracted by his anger, Angel didn’t see the guy before the Fiesta’s bumper smashed into his legs and sent him flying into the wall.

Anger gone, Angel slammed on the brakes and shakily climbed from the Fiesta. Besides a slight dent in the hood, the pink car looked none the worse for wear.

The dark-haired young man in scrubs wasn’t as well off. His body was limp and his neck was at an unnatural angle. The car’s headlights glinted off a nametag: Ben. Angel stood and stared. He’d killed a human. He fell to his knees, raking his hands through his hair. He’d ended a young man’s life, it was going to set his destiny back weeks, if not months.

A howl was building in Angel’s chest when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Ah, don’t worry so much, big guy. You were only doing what the Powers wanted.”

“Whistler?” Angel looked up in shock at the slight man. “The Powers wanted me to run over a human? Couldn’t they have given me something better to do it in?”

“Eh, they work in mysterious ways.”

Whistler took his hat off and worried the brim between his hands. “Better head on home. I’ll get this cleaned up. Just so you know, it had to be an accident.”

Angel staggered back to his feet. He leaned heavily against the side of the Fiesta.

“Spike and Buffy!” Angel yelped, suddenly remembering why he’d been distracted enough to hit someone in the first place.

Whistler looked up from where he was crouched by Ben’s body. “Don’t worry about those two. A few words here and there and I got that particular mess all cleared up. They’ll be very happy.”

“They’ll be…” Angel jumped into the Fiesta and spun the wheel, heading back the way he’d come. The couple was right where he’s left them, only now instead of hugging, they were kissing. Against a wall. With her legs around his waist.

This day really, really wasn’t going his way.

When Spike’s hand worked its way under Buffy’s shirt, Angel decided that he’d seen enough. He needed to get back to L.A. and deal with that mess before he could deal with this insanity. He let the clutch out and the Fiesta jumped forward. The vampire’s eyes were still on the couple as he stepped on the gas and the sound of another body bouncing off the car’s hood startled him.

He stopped the car and dropped his face into his hands. “Not again,” he moaned. Did the Powers intend for him to take out half the residents of Sunnydale in some demented demolition derby? But this body didn’t stay down.

The passenger door opened. “Hi, Angel!”

“Hi, Harmony.”

“Can I catch a ride back to L.A.?”

“Fine,” he sighed. The perky blonde climbed in. The Fiesta shimmied as Angel restarted the engine and pulled away from the hospital.

“Thanks! I totally want to catch a sale tomorrow. I really like this car, great color. Wow, those jeans are, like, so five years ago! Where did you even find them? And is that coffee I smell?” Harmony turned around, glancing through the rear window. Her face scrunched up. “Why does Buffy have her hands down Spike’s pants?”


	6. What Demon Did

What Demon Did

A/N: Another Thing of Doom tidbit! This one is a filler for what Demon was up to while William and Buffy were out procreating in Chapter 12. 

****

Demon felt left out. His mate and his human were out in the sunshine together where he couldn’t follow.

He was lonely, buried under the comforter on the bed that smelt of the three of them together.

It’s been his idea for him and his human to take her out separately, but he didn’t like it now.

Lonely was bad.

The image of his dark-haired sire flittered through his mind. She’d left him lonely, too, but he trusted Buffy to come back to him. His mate loved him.

However, he still found himself fidgeting with worry. He had no mark on her. How would another vampire know she was taken? She was so…she was his. Demon growled in frustration. 

He needed to bite her.

But she would be afraid and maybe hate him for doing it, so he wouldn’t.

The image and imagined sensation of his fangs sliding into her played on repeat in his head. Demon wiggled against the bed as his cock hardened painfully. He keened sadly, wanting his mate. He wasn’t very good with time, something his human often berated him over, but he was fairly certain that it would be a while before his mate returned.

Resigned, Demon arranged the frilly lace of his mate’s knickers on the pillow and lifted himself up on hands and knees. He spat in his hand before reaching down to stroke himself. With a sigh, he smashed his face against the little scrap of fabric that carried the enticing aroma of his mate’s arousal. Worrying the lace with his fangs, he squeezed his shaft tight and pumped fast.

His mind was filled with tantalizing pictures of Buffy. The one he liked best and settled on was her with her arms and legs around him, moaning that she loved him. He thrust into his hand a few more times and came with a harsh grunt. It was better than nothing, but not the same as having his mate and his human there.

Demon collapsed onto his side, pouting. It was going to get boring doing nothing but waiting.

Angel! The thought made him perk up. Angel was family and would have to put up with him.

He squirmed out of the bed and headed towards the door, determined to find his grandsire. Pausing with his hand on the knob, Demon had the feeling he was supposed to do something before leaving. Putting his hand on his hips he surveyed the room. What was it...What was it...? His eyes landed on the pile of black clothing on the top of the dresser.

Ah-ha! His mate had told him to get dressed before going anywhere. He really didn’t want to. What was the point when he’d just have to take the uncomfortable, itchy things off again later?

But Buffy had been very insistent. She might get mad if he didn’t get dressed. And if she was upset then she might not let him have sex with her. Only one choice, then.

Heaving a huge sigh, Demon poked at the pile of clothes. It didn’t poke back. He got the black shirt on easily enough and the socks were no problem. The pants he laid on the bed and stared at. His human seemed to have no trouble with them. He snarled, determined not to be defeated.

Taking the black jeans in his claws he shook them and managed to get his left foot in before ending up on the floor. With a growl he turned on his back and got his right foot into the other pant leg. Sighing in relief he pulled the fabric up and over his hips. He laid there for a moment, wishing for the millionth time that morning for his mate or human to be there so they could help him. Being careful of his claws, he pulled the zipper up and got the snap closed.

There! Victory.

Only he was missing his boots. Demon actually liked those. They made his kicks that much more effective. He shoved his feet in them and looked helplessly at the laces. A whine escaped his lips. He was going to have to get help.

Angel was out of the question. His grandsire would just laugh at him.

A smile curved his lips. Fred! She would gladly assist him.

Trying not to trip over the untied laces, Demon made his way down to Fred’s lab. She was arguing animatedly, but not angrily, with some loser. He cleared his throat and Fred looked over at him and smiled. The other person was quickly dismissed.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” She was looking at his hair.

In horror, Demon realized he hadn’t combed it and it was probably all tangled and curly. His shoulders slumped. Damn. He had been thinking being on his own for a while might be fun, but instead it was just a long litany of reasons his felt out of sorts without his mate and human.

“Did you need help with something?” Fred asked with a smile.

Sighing, Demon gestured towards his feet.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Fred cooed, immediately seeing the problem. Demon felt better as she knelt down and fussed over him. At least someone cared. Standing back up she frowned at him. “Demon, your shirt’s on backwards, I can see the tag.”

Drat. He immediately stripped it off. Fred jumped back with a startled yelp. Turning it around he put it back on and twittered at a wide-eyed Fred. She looked a little nervous and he glanced behind him to make sure there wasn’t something she’d need protecting from. Everything looked the same. Demon shrugged and waved a hand at his chest.

“Uh, yes, that’s better.”

It felt less like the shirt was choking him, too, so that was good. Demon gave Fred a hug in thanks.

She ‘eeped’ and patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Buffy’s a very lucky girl, very lucky. Unfairly lucky.” Fred shook her head. “Now I hate to do this, but I’ve got a batch of bacteria that need looking at so…shoo.” Any sting was taken out of her words by her soft smile.

Demon nodded his head at her and sauntered back out of the lab. On his way to Angel’s office he literally ran into Lorne, who was speaking loudly into a cell phone.

Both Lorne and he paused in the hallway and after a few more remarks Lorne snapped the phone closed, looking disgusted.

Demon cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, I’m fine, handsome. No worries on my behalf. Where’s that girl of yours?”

Demon mimed his fingers walking, hoping Lorne would understand.

“Ah, she’s out with your sunshine tolerant half?”

Demon nodded morosely.

“So, after dark, do you get a turn?”

Demon nodded again, more excitedly. He couldn’t wait to fight beside his warrior-goddess.

“The girl’s going to need dinner first, you know?” Lorne said, leaning casually against the wall.

Demon’s brow wrinkled. Damn it. Of course his mate would be hungry, but he had no idea what to feed her. He looked plaintively at Lorne.

“No worries, I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t have an idea. I’m assuming she still likes chocolate?”

Impatiently, Demon motioned ‘of course’ with a hand.

Lorne chuckled. “Then have I got just the thing.”

A few minutes and two phone calls later resulted in everything being arranged. Demon was nearly beside himself in excitement. His mate was going to flip and hopefully stuff herself full. She ate enough, but she had a lot of filling out to do and it was work to get her to eat any extra. This should help.

He was bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation, but cursed himself for not having words to thank Lorne with. His human always took care of that kind of stuff. Lacking any better ideas he bear hugged Lorne, who patted him on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome, now go bother our Angel-cakes. I’m sure he deserves it for some reason or other.”

Grinning, Demon strode down the hallway and past Harmony without a second glance. He hadn’t quite forgiven his human for being lonely enough to convince him to put up with that. For a second he contemplated ripping her head off, but he wasn’t sure his mate would appreciate the gesture as it was intended and he’d run the risk of making Angel’s people upset. So he let her continue her unlife, for now.

Angel jumped as Demon barged into his office.

There was a fresh and warm thermos of otter blood sitting beside his grandsire’s elbow. Demon’s stomach suddenly ached. Without hesitation he grabbed the thermos and downed its contents in one long chug before plunking it back down beside Angel.

His grandsire sighed loudly. “And what do I owe this pleasure to?”

Demon shrugged and perched on the edge of the desk. After a moment, Angel returned to going through a file. Demon leaned forward, but without his human the writing was just nonsense. Demon frowned. His human was always going on and on, quoting bits of this or that, reciting poetry—Demon liked the ones his human wrote the best—or entertaining them with books. It was too quiet without all that in his head.

Angel had one of those little swinging ball things on the top of his desk. Using a claw, Demon set it in motion. The clicking noises soon had his grandsire’s eyebrow twitching. Now that was fun. He messed around with the thing, figuring out all the different ways it would work, and which one would make the most noise.

With a roar, Angel knocked the thing off his desk and slammed his fist down next to Demon. If Angel had been hoping to scare him, it didn’t work. Grinning smugly, Demon hopped to his feet and wandered over to the built-in shelves. Angel settled back down and picked his pen up, scratching something onto the paper in front of him.

On one of the shelves Demon found a picture of his mate. She looked very young and Demon shot his grandsire a dirty look. Buffy appeared so happy and carefree in the picture. It must have been before she met Angelus. Demon whined in the back of his throat, mourning her lost innocence.

From the corner of his eye he saw Angel glaring at him. Obviously, the git knew what picture Demon was looking at. Trying not to smile, Demon ran a hand down his torso to cup himself through his pants. As predicted, his good ole’ grandda launched himself out of his comfy executive chair in full vamp face. By the time Angel had sprinted to his side, Demon was already setting the picture back on the shelf and acting like nothing had ever happened.

Raising an eyebrow at Angel, Demon turned his back on him and picked up an antique bell of some kind. Delighted, Demon rang it. With a roar Angel grabbed the bell from Demon’s hands and punched him square in the chest, knocking Demon into the wall. With a clawed hand around his throat, Angel pinned him there.

Demon smirked.

With what seemed to be a great deal of effort Angel forced his demon back and his human mask shifted into place. “Are you trying to get me mad?”

Demon shrugged a shoulder.

“If I didn’t think Buffy would get pissed off over me mauling her latest sex toy, you’d be hurting.” Angel’s eyes swirled with dark promise.

If the taunt was meant to hurt, it fell on deaf ears. Demon knew better. ‘I love you’ his mate said, over and over again. Whatever past hurts had happened between them were over and done. She loved him. Confident, Demon simply purred his agreement. Let the berk think what he wanted.

Angel snorted in disgust and dropped Demon. Brushing off his hands on his jeans, Angel walked dejectedly back to his desk. “I don’t know why you think you need to bother me just because Buffy and the boy aren’t available to entertain you.”

Ah! Now his grandsire was getting it.

Several hours later Demon had gotten Angel to spring out of his chair five more times, vamp out three, and threaten to dust him twice.

Only family was family, so when Angel ordered his lunch he’d gotten extra for Demon. In thanks Demon had quietly drunk his blood and given Angel a solid fifteen minutes of peace.

Now Demon was on his stomach and looking under a cabinet in the back of the office. There was something stuck there. Working his hand under it he pulled it back out with one of those super bouncy balls you could get for a quarter at the grocery store. Neat. No telling how it’d ended up there. Springing to his feet Demon launched it at Angel, who looked up just in time for it to smack him right in the forehead. The ball bounced off and went zinging around the office.

Unable to control himself, Demon doubled over laughing.

Angle simply sighed and returned to his endless paper work, surreptitiously rubbing at the red mark on his forehead after a moment. 

Demon’s laughter cut off as the awareness of…something kindled deep in his belly. His mate was on her way home. Not even bothering to acknowledge Angel’s puzzled frown, Demon hurtled from the office. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the right floor. Once back in room 561 he started pacing. She was close.

His girl.

He was trembling.

The door opened and Buffy walked in. She carried with her the scent of roses, the ocean, and his human.

Twittering in delight he crashed into her and they ended up on the floor. He wiggled happily and rubbed his cheek against hers. He cooed, rumbled and purred his pleasure at seeing her.

Demon could tell she’d had sex with his human and was pleased. Truthfully, he’d been worried his human might become too embarrassed to have sex outside the bedroom and would leave Buffy unsatisfied. He was delighted to find that hadn’t been the case and felt foolish for worrying. His human could no more keep his hands off his…no…their mate than Demon could.

Buffy wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “I missed you and I’m happy to see you, too. And I’m kind of impressed you managed to get dressed. But who tied your boots?”


	7. It's a Nice Day

**_It's A Nice Day_ **

**

A/N: So here it is: my very first fic published ever. Warts and all. (Dear past my: WHY ARE THERE TWO STANZAS OF SONG LYRICS?) I didn't know how dialogue tags worked. There's probably a million typos. But I left it as is. If you want to see writer growth, read this then something I've published in 2018. Rated M. Though it's probably more T. Set S4, a 'Something Blue" AU. (prompt was: what if Riley had recognized Spike's name in SB?) 

**

“Ow! Bloody hell, not the nose.” The bleached blonde vamp growled through his fangs as he crunched the bones back into place. Blood from the break trickled down over his mouth and chin, making him look ghoulish as he snapped and snarled at his captors. One of the soldier boys, big bland looking fellow with a mop of brown hair and a flat midwestern accent, seemed to be directing the others. Spike pushed off the two guards trying to hold him and took a swing at the tosser. The punch didn’t connect as other members of the initiative tackled him. He went down heavy to the floor, still struggling. Midwest walked over, drew back a booted foot, and kicked Spike in the side, hard. Ribs snapped.

 

“I’m going return that favor one day,” the vampire hissed.

 

“Don’t think so, Hostile 17,” Midwest said, landing another vicious kick.

 

“Spike, the name’s Spike. We bloody well have names you know.”  

 

“You don’t now, Hostile 17.” One more kick and Spike’s tormentor tired of the game, he pulled out his taser and shocked the HST back into submission. The other Initiative soldiers dragged the now limp body into a white holding cell.

 

**** **** ****

 

_Several days, an escape, and one spell gone wrong later . . ._

 

Buffy hadn’t been able to believe her luck. The perfect wedding dress was right in front of her. She’d just walked out of the magic shop, looked up, and there it was. Then Riley just happened to walk by, and now he seemed unable to get her good news through his thick skull. Yesterday had been bad enough, what with the most awkward picnic ever happening like a slow motion train wreck. Today everything about him was irritating her. His dumb hair and his stupid clothes, and the confused pained look in his eye. Couldn’t he just be happy for her, like a normal person? She really needed to get back, there was still so much to plan. She and her fiance; were going to need to write their own vows, that whole 'til death do us part' thing wasn't working at all.

 

“What’s his name?” Riley asked.

 

“Who?” Buffy asked, having lost the thread of the conversation. Should she even invite her third cousins? She didn’t know them well, but the more presents the better.

 

“The groom.”

 

Oops- Riley was still here and talking.

 

“Spike.” She said.

 

“That’s a name?” Riley was getting more and more lost as to what the heck was happening. And for some reason “Spike” was ringing a bell. His face clouded over as he realized where he’d heard that name recently. The HST, the one that had escaped. Surely the very normal seeming Buffy Summers couldn’t mean  _that_  Spike.

 

Buffy didn’t want anyone, even Riley, upset when she was so happy. It wasn’t fair. “Don’t be mad,” she pleaded with her friend. Actually, she didn’t really know him that well. Was he her friend?

 

“I’m not mad,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

 

“No, you are mad.” Buffy really wished he’d been walking anywhere else instead of bringing his pity party to rain on her parade.

 

Riley knew he had to be wrong, but this whole situation was getting him flustered. Why had Buffy agreed to the picnic if she’d been getting this close with someone else. “No, I am! I, um . . .I really- -Wow. Um- Who is this guy? Does he go here?”

 

“Spike?” Buffy laughed thinking of him trying to sit through a UC Sunnydale lecture. “Oh, no. He’s totally old.”

 

“Old?” Riley wondered if she was one of those girls that just wanted a bank account. ‘Cause if that was the case he was majorly out of the running. Even with the hazard bonus he got from the Initiative, a soldier wasn’t making caviar money.

 

Buffy sighed. “Well, not as old as my last boyfriend was,” she conceded.

 

This was crazy, he needed to get out of there, fast. “Okay. It’s late and I’m . . . I’m very tired now. So . . . I’m just gonna go far away. And be- away.”  Buffy took a step after him, starting to protest. “No. Stay,” he told her.

 

In shock at being treated like an errant puppy Buffy did stay put, but she wasn’t happy about it. She even indulged in a little fantasy involving Spike and fangs and a big hole in Riley’s neck. It’d serve him right for making her feel bad on her happy day, especially when she’d just found the most amazing white dress.  

 

**** **** ****

 

Riley didn’t actually go away, just around the side of the next building.The whole situation was very confusing. He could have sworn the beautiful blonde girl had been interested in him, but now she was engaged? She was his breath of fresh air, the normal to offset the very strange secret life he was living as a recruit in the Initiative. He’d already seen such awful things and terrible monsters during the short time he’d been involved.

 

And one of those monsters had called itself Spike. Riley knew it was his duty to make sure Buffy wasn’t being preyed upon. He was mostly sure that HST had been a vampire, and couldn’t vampires hypnotize people and make them do things against their will? Like eat bugs? Maybe the escaped vampire was making Buffy marry him and chow down on insects! It was Riley’s job to tail Buffy and find out what was going on. He’d save her if she’d been turned into a fly consuming slave to the undead!

 

At least following her was proving to be easy as Buffy was completely distracted. The girl was muttering to herself, and occasionally Riley caught a snippet like “guest-list” or “taffeta.”  Nothing human or supernatural bothered her as she walked quickly back through town to an apartment complex. In fact Riley was sure he saw some HSTs that actively avoided Buffy. Maybe they knew he was following her and didn’t want to interfere with Initiative business. Smart demons.

 

Riley hid in a hedge, watching Buffy as she stopped to do a quick check of her hair, clothes, and make-up. Finally she seemed satisfied with her appearance and continued on. Every bit of his training came in handy as he crept cautiously behind her. He saw the outline of a man leaning against one of the doors, smoking a cigarette. A fraction of a second later she did too. There was a squeal from Buffy as she rushed into his arms.  The man caught her easily, pulling her lith figure up against him.

 

“I missed you so much.” Buffy said inbetween kisses.

 

“You were gone forever, luv. I was about to come hunt you down.” The man growled in a thick English accent.

 

“That sounds like it could be fun.” She giggled, giving the man another lingering kiss that made Riley’s stomach clench with jealousy. When Buffy finally pulled back it was only to gaze dreamily up at the man’s face.  “I saw the most amazing dress.” She said. “It’s perfect. Can I tell you about it?”

 

“Of course, pet. But then we have to talk about the cake, and I have something to show you. This way.” The man tugged at Buffy’s hand, stepping into the white porch light. Riley felt his jaw go slack. It was Hostile 17. What the hell was going on? He couldn’t get his head around how a perky freshman co-ed went from being cute and awkward with her TA one day to making wedding plans with an HST the next. Must be hypnosis. At least he hadn’t greeted her with both his tongue and a spider down her throat.

 

Suddenly realizing the couple had turned a corner, he moved as quickly as he dared along behind them. He was going to need to call for backup.

 

**** **** ****

 

Buffy was so incredibly happy. Slayers were notoriously short lived, so she’d never let herself dream of actually being a bride. Well, at least once she’d been called she hadn’t. It was too normal a thing for The Chosen One. But now look at her! True, nothing about the wedding would be normal (what wine did you pair with otter blood?), but it was hers.

 

Looking at Spike out of the corner of her eye she marveled again that he really didn’t hate her. Had she ever entirely hated him? She’d barely even admitted to herself that he wasn’t too bad to look at, when he’d gone and made things all topsy-turvy with the marriage proposal. Every protective dam and levee she’d placed around her mind and heart had broken open at that moment and she’d gladly said yes. A bright white spark of love had made itself known, and started to grow.

 

“Penny for your thoughts Slayer,” Spike said, squeezing her fingers with his own.

 

“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”  Buffy’s smile was infectious, and he grinned back at her. She enjoyed seeing him really smile, with no self protecting snark or leer.

 

“Now, aren’t you going to tell me about this fairy tale dress of yours?”  

 

They were walking around the apartment complex’s pool, which was covered over for winter.

 

“Of course!” She sighed, “Really, it's perfect. White, of course, with a ball gown silhouette with a sweetheart neckline. . ."

 

Spike leaned in close, his hand wrapped about his intended's. He didn't want to miss one happy, gushing word.

 

**** **** ****

_Several minutes and much babbling later . . ._

They’d been standing in front of the French doors leading into the little used rec center for a few minutes while Buffy finished telling Spike all the details. When she trailed off he kissed her again, tangling his cool tongue around hers. It was unfair how easy it was for him to get her motor going.

 

“Now let me show you my surprise,” his voice was a little bashful.

 

“Okay.” What did her vampire have planned?

 

Spike clicked the doors open just a crack, then stepped behind her and put his hands over her eyes. Using gentle movements he guided Buffy inside the rec center.

 

“Ready?” he breathed in her ear, and she nodded. His hands fell away, showing her a room flickering with candle light. Dozens of white tapers, votives, and tea lights had been lit around the periphery, giving everything a cheery glow. All the chairs were pulled back, leaving the carpeted floor bare. A CD player was sitting on the edge of a ping-pong table that had only partially been put up. Next to it was a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

 

“Spike,” she said in wonder, “Is this for me.”

 

“Nope, it was for Giles. But it turns out he isn’t available so I guess you’ll have to do,” Spike teased.

 

“I can wear tweed if you’d like.”

 

“God, no. Now come here.” He uncorked the champagne in one smooth move. Bubbles fizzed and popped as he filled the glasses. He handed her one, then raised his own glass. “To the most amazing woman in the world.” Buffy blushed, trying to take a drink to cover her embarrassment. “Wait,” Spike stopped her. “Let’s practice. Don’t want to bugger it up on the big day.”  He slipped his arm around hers and they managed to drink from their respective flutes without a hitch and only a little laughter.

 

“We’re pretty good at that,” Buffy said, as her fiance; took the half finished glass from her hand and set it back on the table.

 

“Not bad at all. Now, pet, I knew you had your heart set on  _The Wind Beneath My Wings_  for the first dance, but would you try this one on for size? Please?” Spike smiled at her again when she nodded. Grabbing her hand he led her to the middle of the floor. He positioned her with one hand out in the air and the other up. “Now close your eyes and imagine you’re wearing that pretty white dress you were telling me about.”

 

Buffy slid her eyelids shut, doing as he asked. The heavy white folds of the gown settled around her in her imagination, and since it was her vision she dressed Spike in a tux. Maybe by the actual day she could convince him to wear one, for her.

 

Slayer senses let her track him as he moved across the room, then quickly back to her. He brought his shoulder under her upright hand, cool fingers cupping the other. A guitar riff poured from the CD player. Buffy recognized it immediately, it’d been all over the radio a couple of years ago.

 

_And I'd give up forever to touch you_

_'Cause I know that you feel me somehow_

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be_

_And I don't want to go home right now_

 

Spike tugged her against him, and started moving. The only dancing she’d ever done had been at The Bronze, which mostly involved just shuffling feet and moving vaguely to the beat. It was immediately obvious that Spike actually knew what he was doing. Relaxing into his hands and letting him lead felt natural. He guided her around the room, the music carrying them. In her mind’s eye her wedding gown swirled and swished around her legs.

_And I don't want the world to see me_

_'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_

_When everything's meant to be broken_

_I just want you to know who I am_

 

Spike twisted and twirled Buffy through a waltz, her innate grace letting her keep pace with him even though she obviously didn’t know the steps. When the instrumental solo started about halfway through the song he pushed her a little, making the steps a little tricker. She never faltered, trusting him to guide her through them.

 

Buffy was soaring. She could see the white skirt of the dress bell out as she hit the end of a turn, then wrap tight around her legs as Spike brought her back against him. Her heart was full. As the end of the song neared he brought both of her hands to his shoulders in order to grab her around the waist and pick her up. Slowly he spun her around and around. As the music faded she opened her eyes, locking gazes with him, letting him see the love there. Her body slid down along his until her feet were back on the floor.

 

“I love you,” she whispered, finding the words inadequate to express everything inside. Years of feelings, both good and bad, were immured in that statement.

 

“I love you too,” he said back, cupping her cheek in his hand. “From the first moment I saw you. It’s all been so wrapped up, confused with anger, hate, fear, respect, awe, lust. But none of that matters anymore, just you, just now.”

 

“Exactly, that’s exactly how I feel.” A tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and he bent forward to lick it off. Then his lips met hers again, as they poured the raw passions inside into a bruising kiss.

 

Suddenly the door to the rec center slammed open. The click of a gun cocking was loud in the silence. “Get away from her,” a voice demanded.

 

Buffy and Spike glanced at each other, then shifted into a side by side battle stance to face the interloper.

 

“Midwest?” Spike demanded.

“Riley?” Buffy gasped.

 

“Wait, you know him?” they asked each other at the same time.

 

“Hey!” Riley said, but they ignored him.

 

“He’s one of the tin soldier boys that put the soddin’ spell on me.” Spike shot a rude gesture in Riley’s direction.

 

“No way,” breathed Buffy. “He goes to my school. I thought he was just a TA and a frat boy, not one of the commandos. You sure?” she asked.

 

“I remember his mug real well. The wanker broke a couple of my ribs.” Spike could feel the Slayer bristling beside him, it made him proud.

 

“Hey!” Riley tried again, louder.

 

“What?” They both asked.

 

“Buffy. I know this is going to sound crazy, and I don’t know what he’s told you, but you need to move away from that guy now. He’s not human, he’s a vampire.” Riley gestured to the side with his gun.

 

“Well, duh.” Buffy said.

 

“You know?” Riley was suddenly confused.

 

Spike rolled his eyes, “Of course she bloody knows, she’s the Slayer, init she?”

 

“The Slayer?” Riley said, looking dumbfounded now.

 

“Is there an echo in here?” Buffy asked, “Y’know, The Slayer. Chosen to fight the vampires, the demons, all the powers of darkness, blah, blah, blah.”

 

“That’s a bedtime story demons tell each other.” Riley replied. This really wasn’t going how he’d planned. First off, backup was a long ways away, forcing him to confront Hostile 17 alone. Secondly, the girl was supposed to freak out upon hearing her dearly beloved was a blood sucking fiend. Thirdly she was supposed rush to Riley to gratefully thank him, in the manner of his choosing, for saving her life. Instead Buffy was standing alongside the vampire, saying she wasn’t much better than a demon herself.

 

“Your sources suck,” Buffy informed Riley. “Pun mostly not intended.”

 

“Spell or no spell you try to grab her for one of your Doctor Moreau inspired experiments and you’ll be dead.” Spike couldn’t help slipping into gameface. Midwest did not belong anywhere near his bride to be.

 

Riley swung the gun wildly between the two.

 

The vampire and Slayer shared a look for a moment, then nodded. Spike sprang towards the soldier, growling. Riley trained his gun on incoming threat, circling as the vamp did in order to keep the pistol aimed at him. It was a piece of cake for Buffy, once Riley had his back towards her. She simply walked forward and administered a quick stun blow to his wrist so he’d drop the gun. Only she must of miscalculated, because his wrist snapped like a twig under her hand, making him scream. Thudding to the ground he cradled the broken extremity to his chest. The pistol clattered to the floor beside him.

 

“Sorry!” She gasped, “I was kind of angry, and I didn’t mean to. I forget how fragile regular humans can be.”

 

Spike chuckled, the demon-face receding. “Doing my job for me now, luv?” he asked.

 

Buffy threw up her hands in exasperation. “Ugh. Well. we’re fresh out of railroad spikes so I did what I could.”

 

Riley whimpered as he looked at the vampire.

 

“Wot,” Spike asked, “You think I got called “Spike” ‘cause of my sunny personality?”

 

“Quit it.” Buffy said.

 

“Evil,” Spike replied.

 

“Attempting to tease the prisoner with a broken arm isn’t evil. It’s just annoying.” She glanced over at Spike, who returned her glare with an easy nonchalance. “Well, come on Riley, let’s get you to Giles so you can spill your guts about the commandos.” She reached for him, but he twisted onto his side, worming away from her.

 

“Really?” Buffy said, frowning in annoyance.

 

“Allow me,” Spike said. Buffy had the feeling she wasn’t going to entirely like his solution, but since Riley had so rudely interrupted them and pointed a gun at her, she didn’t say anything. Looking at the ceiling with an exasperated sigh, she just swept her hand towards Riley in invitation.

 

The vampire walked over to the prone form. “Told you I’d repay you.” he growled, then kicked once, short and sharp, into the soldier’s side. A rib or two audibly cracked, and then Spike hit the floor, clutching his temples as debilitating pain smashed into him. Buffy sat down next him, drawing his head into her lap. She petted and cooed at the vampire as the headache started to recede. Once it was completely gone he stayed there a little longer anyway, since it was nice to have the Slayer fussing over him.

 

The physical discomfort Riley was in was nothing compared to the stabbing horror inside him. Buffy had broken his wrist easily, without even trying. The sunny normal girl of his imagination didn’t exist. The reality was over there comforting a monster, and was probably one herself. All his Mayberry, white picket dreams popped one after the other like so many soap bubbles.

 

After curling over to give her fiance; one more lingering kiss, Buffy helped him climb to his feet. Then she walked back to Riley. The soldier flinched, but didn’t try to move away this time as she reached down, snared a handful of his shirt, and hauled him to his feet.

 

“Come on,” she huffed, dragging him outside.

 

“I’ll be right there, luv.” Spike called behind her, “Just going to make sure we don’t burn the sodden’ place to the ground.”

 

**** **** ****

 

Back at Giles’ apartment Buffy shouldered open the door, practically tossing Riley inside.

 

“I was starting to wonder when you two were going to return,” Giles said from the kitchen. Buffy spied his glasses resting on the coffee table. Her poor watcher must still be blind.

 

“ ‘S not me she’s hauling around,” Spike said, catching the door before it closed. “Slayer’s brought you a little present.”

 

“Sit.” Buffy said to Riley, indicating the wooden chair with ropes hanging off it.

 

Gingerly he sat down “Do I even want to know why you keep a chair with restraints in your living room?”

 

“Girl’s got a bit of kink,” Spike leered.

 

“Pig,” Buffy said, but without the usual venom behind it.  

 

Spike caught her looking at him from under her lashes while she continued securing the rope around the soldier boy. Got her mind working, he had. He gave her a wink to let her know, that he knew, what she was thinking. Buffy blushed and looked away. Guess his little comment might not have been too far off the mark. He was doing things the proper way, marrying the bird first, but she better be ready for what was going to happen after that honeymoon suite door closed . . .

 

Giles came out of the kitchen, felt the way to his chair, and sat down with a sigh. “So what have you brought me?” he asked.

 

“One of those little tin soldier boys. He followed Buffy home.” Spike said.

 

“Oooh! Can I keep him” Buffy asked with a teasing smile.

 

“Doubt he’s housebroken, luv.” Spike sat on the couch, pulling Buffy onto his lap. With a little sigh of contentment she curled up against him.

  

“Also, I may of, kind of, accidently broken his wrist earlier. In my defense he did have a gun. Sorry Riley.” She sent what she hoped was a sympathetic look his way. “He’s going to have to  go to the hospital sooner or later. Hey, what happened to the gun?”

 

Spike patted his pocket “Right here luv, and I tossed his walkie-talkie gizmo into the pool. Figured that might buy us some more time ‘fore the other rodents get here.”

 

“Smart, honey,” Buffy said, leaning in for another kiss from her betrothed.

 

Riley stared at the ceiling, then at the wall, then at Giles. Finally he cleared he throat “Do they, uh, do that a lot?”  Buffy’s arms were now wrapped around the vampire’s neck, and his hands were tangled in her hair.

 

“Just lately,” Giles sighed. “So, uh, Riley, is it.”

 

“Yes,” the young man confirmed.

 

“My name is Rupert Giles. While I do apologize for the unusual circumstances you find yourself in, I would very much like to know about the organization that you belong to.”

 

The soldier’s face hardened. He’d been trained not to give away secrets, even under pain of death. “Finn, Riley, ID number-”

 

“Oh, don’t bother with all that.” Giles waved his hand. “I’m not some foreign enemy power, well, at least not from my perspective. Spike-” he waited a beat till the sounds from the couch stopped. “If you’d be so good would you please pour a scotch for myself and our guest.”

 

“Watcher, I’m not your bleedin’ lap dog,” the vampire grumbled.

 

“True, but this temporary blindness has put me at a real risk of spilling the good stuff. Of course you can help yourself to several fingers as well if you wish.”

 

“All bloody right then-” Buffy moved to the side to let him up. Spike made sure Riley was watching so the sod could see him ‘adjust’ things before he stood. The boy turned a rewarding whiter shade of pale and quickly looked away.

 

Buffy found herself having trouble focusing on anything besides her fiance;. While the new emotions were warm and sparkly, it was really the wedding plans that keep interrupting her train of thought. Tilting her head she watched Spike as he splashed scotch into three glasses. “So you sure that red and white are going to work?” she asked.

 

“It’ll be perfect,” Spike assured her.

 

“For what?” Riley asked, looking confused.

 

“The wedding, of course.” Buffy glanced at the soldier long enough to roll her eyes at him. “Because I really do think I want my bouquet to be red roses and white lilies.”

 

“The symbolism is really great on that, yeah, it’ll be lovely,” Spike agreed. “Lilies for sweetness and red roses for love.”

 

“I thought Lilies were for dead people,” Riley said, remembering arrangements he’d seen a funerals.

 

“Still works out then,” Spike sighed, putting a glass in Giles hand. “But really, cyprus is for death, and I don’t fancy that being in a bouquet. What do they bloody teach in schools now-a days”

 

The vampire sat back down next to Buffy and handed her one of the glasses. When she raised her eyebrows at him he indicated Riley, “I’m not about to be the one to pour it down his gullet, pet.”

 

Buffy was going to protest, then realized with a glance at Giles that she really was the only option.

 

“Here Riley, it’ll help with the pain. I really didn’t mean to.” Buffy held the drink out to him, and after giving her a sour look the soldier opened his mouth. She tipped the glass so the contents went down in one long swallow. The burn made him cough a few times involuntarily, and Spike chuckled at him.

 

“Now back to the initiative,” Giles said, once the sound of springs let him know Buffy had returned to sitting on the couch.

 

Riley closed his eyes. “Look,” he said, “ I really can’t tell you anything. Just that we’re the good guys, protecting the residents of this town from HSTs.”

 

“HSTs, could you please define that term for me?”  Giles steepled his fingers together, he wishing he could take notes. 

 

The older man’s tone was so much like that of his professors that Riley found himself answering without really thinking about it. “It means Hostile Sub-Terrestrials, in other words demons.”

 

“Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, seeing as you lot work out of a basement,” Spike shook his head at the amazing ability of humans to delude themselves.

 

Riley opened his eyes to glare at the vampire for referring to the Initiative facility as a “basement,” then immediately wished he hadn’t. Buffy had moved so she was essentially straddling Spike on the couch, with her upper body cuddled against his chest as he leaned back.

 

“God, you people are so weird,” Riley groaned.

 

“There's something going on” Giles said defensively. “I’m blind, which is not my normal, and they’re doing, whatever it is they’re doing.” He waved vaguely towards the couch.

 

“We're normal, I feel normal," Buffy said vehemently. Spike had her hand in his, and was pressing little kisses to the pad of each finger. It was distracting. Buffy watched the muscles of his lips and jaw move as he slowly worked his way from digit to digit. “So do you think sit down dinner or buffet?” She asked him.

 

He sucked on the tip of her pinky for a moment, thinking. “Probably buffet, gets rid of the thorny seating arrangement issue.”

 

Riley slumped in the chair as much as the ropes would let him “Maybe you can just kill me now,” he muttered.

 

“Here, here,” Giles raised his glass in direction of the soldier’s voice.

 

Buffy turned her head on Spike's shoulder so she was looking at Riley. "So what kind of spell did you do to my honey that he can't make with the fangy and the bitey anymore?"

 

"Spell?" The soldier asked, looking perplexed. "As in magic?"

 

"Yeah, as in bloody magic. It's putting a pretty big crimp in my style at the moment. I'm relying on this lot to stay fed." Anger made Spike's voice cold and hard. Buffy looked up at him, her lower lip sneaking out into a pout. He dropped his voice and spoke into her ear " 'S not all bad, wouldn't of got you otherwise." She melted against him, reassured, and he caught her lip with blunt teeth, tugging at it and growling before drawing her mouth into another kiss.

 

Riley felt like he might be sick. The girl of his dreams was making out with the undead right in front of him. Not really how he'd imagined things going with her after the very special and normal picnic they'd shared. When Buffy started squirming in the monster's lap, Riley closed his eyes again. Maybe this was all some horrible fever dream and he'd wake up. Wait- go back- there'd been something about magic.

 

"You guys believe in magic?" He asked casually.

 

"Belief is not entirely a part of it," Giles said.

 

Riley laughed "Do you believe in Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny too?"

 

"Us aside, it seems you do not. So that leaves the question of what is happening to Spike." Giles reached up to pull his glasses off to clean them, and nearly poked himself in the eye before remembering he wasn’t wearing any.

 

The soldier agitatedly tapped his toes against the floor. Nothing would be changed if he explained to them what had happened to the vampire, with the added benefit that it might make the smacking sounds coming from the couch stop.

 

“Okay, Okay, I’ll tell you.” He waiting a second, then risked popping one eyelid open. Buffy had moved so she was sitting next to Spike, both of them looking expectantly at him. Riley sighed in relief. “I’ll tell you, but only if you’ll promise me that afterwards you’ll return me to the Initiative, in one piece.”

 

Spike growled “No bloody way. You’ll bring that lot right down on our heads.”

 

“I promise, I won’t-”

 

“Oh, sod off, you wanker, I’m not risking - -”

 

The front door banged open, and Xander and Anya tumbled in.

 

“Board up the windows! Barricade the door!” Xander yelled. Buffy and Spike sprang to their feet.

 

“What’s going on?” Giles asked.

 

“Demons. They keep coming and coming.” Anya replied. The two panted, trying to catch their breath.

 

“I think we lost them,” Xander said. “But I couldn’t see.” Just then he noticed Spike standing in the living room next to Buffy, and a tied up Riley who was twisting his neck around to look at the newcomers. “Spike! He’s all untied, which you probably noticed since you replaced him some other guy. Did we switch sides when I wasn’t looking?”

 

Buffy gestured towards the commando “This is Riley my TA, turns out he’s one of the soldiers in the initiative. And, he was just about to tell us what’s wrong with my honey.”

 

Anya looked from her to Spike and back, screwing up her face “Why are you holding hands?”

 

The vampire and Slayer exchanged glances. “They have to hear sooner or later,” Spike said gently.  Buffy nodded and they turned to her friends.

 

“Spike and I are getting married!” She squealed.

 

Xander and Anya both gave them dumbfounded looks. “How? What? How?” stammered Xander.

 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” grumbled Riley.

 

“Giles is blind.” Buffy said, pointing to her Watcher. The scrutiny was annoying, her friends really should have more respect for her choices.

 

“Blind? As in not seeing anything?” Xander asked. Giles nodded. “Oh- wait! Willow!” Xander bounced on his toes excitedly, “She told me I was a demon magnet, and that Spike and Buffy should get married!”

 

Giles felt the lightbulb go off. “And she said that I couldn’t see anything. It’s a spell. She did a spell to have her will done. I guess it worked after all.”

 

Buffy clenched Spike’s hand. She didn’t want this to be a spell. For once she was happy, and in love with someone who was serious about sticking around.

 

" 'S not a spell," Spike said, "least not us two."

 

"Of course it's not a spell, because magic isn't real!" Riley yelled at them.

 

Anya looked at the soldier with disdain "He's a special kind of stupid, isn't he?"

 

Giles rubbed his aching head. "You need to find Willow and break the spell. Most likely she doesn't know what she's doing."

 

"Every demon in a three state area is after me," Xander reminded the group "how are we supposed to get by them?"

 

Buffy found herself pulled into a tight embrace by Spike. "Slayer, I know you're strong- but it's killing me that I can't help or protect you. All these demons, and I- I can't even-"

 

She kissed him softly. "We'll figure it out. Trust me, I want my husband patrolling by my side."

 

Spike gave her a relieved smile, then he let the demon out and spun to face Riley. The vampire snarled and pounced at the soldier, landing with hands braced on the arms of the chair and his fangs inches from Riley's throat.

 

The room got very quiet.

 

"What the in the bleedin' hell did you lot do to me?"

 

Riley was trembling. He knew the implant was working, but his hind brain was screaming Danger! and Predator! He threw his body back trying to get away. The chair rocked up on two legs, tipping backwards. With a growl Spike slammed it down.  

 

"I wonder" Spike hissed, "exactly how much damage I can do before this thing takes me out."

 

It was hard for Riley to talk around his chattering teeth. "Y-y-o-u can't-t-t h-h-hurt me!"  He yelped as cold steel pressed against his neck.

 

"Maybe Spike can't, but I can" Buffy said. She started to press the edge of the blade into the commando's skin. "Feel like a nice, warm meal honey?" The vampire grinned, licking his fangs.

 

"Wait!" Riley gulped. "It's a chip. In his head. Makes it so he can't hurt anyone."

 

"A what?" Buffy and Spike chorused. She put up the knife, and he shook off the demon face. Everyone else started breathing again.

 

"A chip, like what's in a computer, only this one modifies your behavior."

 

"Noticed that, yeah." Spike held his arm out and Buffy snuggled into his side.

 

"So how do we fix it?" She asked. “I want it out before the wedding!”

 

Riley took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose. “A doctor, a surgeon can-”

 

A loud thump from the door startled everyone.

 

"I don't suppose you guys ordered a pizza?" Xander asked.

 

"Okay, new deal," Buffy looked at Riley, "we get you back to the Initiative and you get the other commandos to keep the demons busy until we can find Willow."  

 

"How'll we know when you find her?" Riley asked.

 

"The demons will quit coming." Anya replied.

 

"I say we just throw him out all tied up, that'll keep the beasties busy for a while." Spike smirked at the soldier, even as Buffy elbowed him. "Still evil," he reminded her, "also I don't trust Captain Cardboard there not to betray us."

 

The door rattled on its hinges again.

 

Buffy sighed, "Look, we're out of time. Riley you promise not to bother us, we promise not to bother you. Sound good?" The commando nodded enthusiastically. "If you want I'll even send you a wedding invitation, because no hard feelings." Beside her Spike groaned and rolled his eyes.

 

"Uh, yeah, thanks.” Riley grimaced, “But I'm probably busy that weekend, and every weekend, forever."

 

"Xander," Buffy called,"please untie our guest. I’ve got a demon to kill."

 

Grabbing an axe the Slayer tossed the door wide open while Xander hastily undid the ropes keeping Riley tied to the chair. Two white faced Lei-ach demons stormed into the room. Buffy decapitated one quickly, and sent the other reeling back with a roundhouse kick to the chest. It started towards her again, snapping and snarling, only to stop with a crossbow bolt stuck in it’s eye socket.

 

Anya lowered the bow, “Nobody messes with my man,” she yelled at the now dead demon

 

“Good shot!” Xander said, giving her a one arm hug. “Now lets vamoose before we get a second helping of demony badness.”

 

Riley was standing, stretching out sore muscles while keeping the broken wrist tucked against his chest. He was surprised when Spike reached into his coat and handed him his gun back.

 

“Help her out, ‘cause I can’t, and don’t make me regret this,” the vampire grumbled. The stunned commando quickly nodded his agreement.   

 

“Will you be ok?” Buffy asked Giles, worried about leaving him alone.

 

“I’ll be fine, with Xander gone no more demons will show up here. Now go, hurry, before someone gets really hurt.”

 

They left swiftly, Riley leading the way. When it became apparent that no other demons were in the immediate vicinity, Spike and Buffy fell back a few paces, hand in hand, to discuss table centerpieces and whether or not to have an open bar.

 

“Psst, Xander,” Anya said, turning to watch the blonde couple. “Aren’t they cute together? I like being in love. It makes me want everybody to feel like I do.”

 

“You’re sweet An, but they’re not in love, it’s just a spell.” Xander did not want to think about Buffy, Spike, and what marriage would lead to. Or the packs of demons currently hunting him down. Nope, all kinds of things that were better left unthought of.

 

“You of all people should know better,” Anya was miffed now, “Love spells don’t create love, just obsession. They’ve got that full force when it comes to the wedding planning. If I hear one more thing about place settings I might barf. But that spark between them? A spell couldn't make that. I think the magic just shoved aside other feelings getting in the way so it’d be easier to make them think marriage.”

 

“Nope, still going with option a, it’s less icky.”

 

Anya took a deep breath, ready to argue, when Buffy called out to her.

 

“Hey Anya, you’ll be one of my bridesmaids, right?” The Slayer jogged up next to the ex-demon, who beamed with pleasure at being asked.

 

“Of course!” She answered. “Especially if it includes planning a party that involves too much alcohol and looking at well muscled men that aren’t ours.” Anya said the last a little louder, so that both Xander and Spike narrowed their eyes at her.

 

Buffy giggled, “I totally leave that up to you and Willow, just don’t invite my Mom! But what I really wanted to ask you about is dresses. I was thinking maybe something with an empire waist -”

 

“No bows!” Anya broke in, “I knew a vengeance demon that specialized in retaliation against brides that made their wedding party wear horrible things. Giant bows on butts are an especially fertile ground for feelings of ill will.”

 

“No bows then,” Buffy agreed.

 

They chatted amicably about satin vs. silk vs. burlap together while walking through the parks and neighborhoods of Sunnydale enroute to campus. Spike couldn’t help himself and had moved up to put in his two cents. The girls had agreed with him that gloves in a coordinating color would really be a nice touch.

 

Xander had given up on that conversation immediately and was walking next to Riley. The commando cleared his throat a couple time before working up the courage to ask about what was worrying him. “So, uh, you haven’t noticed Buffy doing anything strange lately, have you?”

 

“Besides yet again getting physical with the undead? No, not so much,” Xander snorted.

 

“Again?!?”

 

“Long story.”  Xander found himself suddenly wary of the soldier. If Buffy hadn’t told him about Angel, Xander wasn’t about to start.

 

Riley tried again “So you haven’t seen her, like, eating bugs, or something?”

 

“Riley,” Xander said, shaking his head, “You’re weirder than I thought. And, no, there’s been no insect consumage. Why would anyone ever do that?"

 

The commando just sighed.

 

The group finally arrived at one of the hidden Initiative entrances. Buffy could sense several different demons gaining on them, but they hadn’t been attacked yet.

 

Riley stood in front of the door, but motioned the others back. “Camera,” he mouthed. He pushed a button and spoke into a microphone. “This is Agent Riley Finn. I’ve been injured and am being tracked by numerous demons. I need medical attention and several squads for back up.” A crash in the bushes behind them underscored his point.

 

He turned and caught Buffy’s eye, nodding solemnly to her. As a soldier Riley prided himself on being an honest man. Even though he didn't understand the Slayer or her choice in friends, they had done as promised and delivered him safely back to the Initiative- putting themselves at risk. Riley would keep his word and not betray them. Buffy nodded back, then her vampire caught her about the waist, pulling her off into the night.

 

Riley took his gun from it’s holster, clicking off the safety. The wedding stuff had been super strange, but he’d seen the looks passing between Hostile 17 and the girl Riley'd been hoping would be his. There’d been a lot of white hot heat there. Buffy was definitely lost to Riley now, that ship had sailed.

 

The commando brought the pistol up, shooting the first demon to show itself right between the eyes. He was going to need to kill a lot more of them before he started feeling better. The door behind him banged open and other soldiers poured out, guns blazing. A medic tried to get his attention, but Riley ignored him and instead drew a bead on a another snarling monster.

 

**** **** ****

 

_A day, a broken spell, and many cookies later . . ._

 

Spike shifted miserably in the chair he was tied to, bored out of his mind. Giles had left earlier muttering something about coffee and needing a breather. Great, but now Spike was stuck in the dark without even the telly on for company. And really, even though he didn’t have any circulation to cut off it wasn’t like the bloody chair was comfortable. He slumped down, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. I wonder what Buffy’s doing, he thought. Probably taking her 43rd shower to wash the Spike off of her. A loud sigh escaped his lips, great, now he was thinking about her in the shower.

 

Since his hands were tied and he couldn’t do anything with that line of thought, he forced himself to think of more PG scenes. Lazily his eyes slide shut. He imagined Buffy wearing the white dress she’d told him about, just like he’d asked her to do last night. Humming the song to himself Spike relived every step of the dance from yesterday. The Slayer had been magnificent, so alive and warm in his hands She’d tasted of sunshine. The chair rattled as Spike struggled against the restraints again, giving vent to the anger he felt at losing her.  _And I’d give up forever to touch you . . ._  Wonderful, now he had the sodden’ song stuck in his head.

 

It was a spell, it had been broken. He shouldn’t still be feeling this. A growl of frustration escaped him. Buffy’d been quick enough to jump up and freak out, and he’d played along. No need to let her highness know how much that little show had hurt. Still hurt. Would always hurt.

 

Spike’s head shot up as Giles’ front door creaked open. What now? Couldn’t a bloke even brood in peace? His eyes widened as Buffy silently crept inside, closing the door behind her. Moonlight glittered on a wicking looked curved knife she was brandishing.

 

“Stake's quicker.” Spike said and Buffy jumped at the loud sound of his voice in the dark apartment.

 

“Is Giles gone?” she asked, tightening her grip on the knife’s handle.

 

“Watcher’s been out for an hour or so,” Spike said levelly. What was the bint up to, going to behead him to quell her shame? Damn it, he probably wouldn’t even try to stop her.

 

Buffy walked up to him, then just stood there, considering. Spike looked at the floor, her presence was overwhelming. He didn’t want her to know how close he was to losing it and babbling out all these bloody feelings that were swirling around inside him. Finally she moved around behind him.

 

“Felt any urge to comparison shop for ice sculptures or had thoughts on whether or not we should register for a toaster oven?” she asked.

 

“Nope,” he said, leaned forward to give her better access to his neck. Couldn’t she just get it over with?

 

“Yeah, me either.” Buffy grabbed the back of the chair, then brought the knife down to cleanly cut through the ropes, she followed up that strike with two more to release Spike’s hands. He sat there, too stunned to move.

 

Buffy kept talking. “So what Willow said was that we should get married, nothing about how we should feel. So I’m sort of thinking that that part was, kind of, maybe, sort of, us-” she trailed off.

 

Spike exploded out of the chair, sweeping Buffy into his arms, crushing her to him. Her hands came up, pulling his mouth to hers for a heated kiss.

 

It was a few minutes before Buffy came up for air. Panting she whispered  “Where do we go from here?” against his lips.

 

“Don’t know, luv. Right now don’t care. Just want to be here, with you.”

 

“Yes!” she squeaked as Spike grabbed her hand and spun her around a few times, like when they’d been dancing the day before. She ended up back against him, her hungry mouth immediately finding his.

 

**** **** ****

 

Willow let Giles hold the door of his apartment open for her. She had enough guilt left so that she humored him rather than lecture about antiqued patriarchal social norms. The aroma of chocolate chip cookies still filled the living room, and Willow hoped there was some left to fuel the research session they had planned.

 

Walking towards the bookcase Willow found herself pitched forward as she tripped on a chair that was lying tipped over on it's side.

 

"Giles," she hissed, and he froze with his finger on the light switch. Cautiously he walked over to where Willow was sprawled on the floor.

 

Silently he took her hand and pulled her up. They looked at the chair in horror, the ropes hanging haphazardly from it.

 

"I guess Spike got out again. Should we call Buffy?" Willow finally asked in a hushed voice.

 

Giles grabbed one of the ropes and held the ends up. "I don't think he just escaped, these look cut."

 

"Maybe Riley didn't keep his word and the initiative came and got him."

 

They both knew there was little chance of ever seeing Spike again if that was the case.

 

"Well," Giles dropped the rope and shook his head, "Buffy's supposed to stop by after patrol, actually I had thought she might already be here, and we'll see if she's got wind of anything out there tonight or wants to go looking for him. I suppose-" he stopped talking as a noise filtered down from the loft. It sounded like a soft whimper, or cry.

 

Motioning Willow back Giles grabbed a short sword from it's hiding place behind a bookcase. Holding it before him he hurried up the steps as softly as he could. Reaching the top of the stairs, The Watcher stopped short. The second most awful thing he'd ever seen in his bed was writhing in front of him. Luckily the two blondes were far too tangled up in each other and his new white sheets to notice Giles as he quickly back peddled out of the room and down the stairs.

 

He propped the sword against his liquor cabinet and grabbed his scotch decanter. Tipping it up he took a swig without bothering with a glass. "Willow, you haven't cast any more spells in the last day, have you?" He asked. Willow shook her head, confused. The Watcher took another big drink. "Well, in that case, I may need you to make me blind again."

 


	8. Heaven Sent: Pleasures Proved

Heaven Sent: Pleasures Proved

A/N: At one point William and Buffy's souls insisted I tell their part of the claim. *shrugs* Okay! Rated E for sexual content. Possibly for terrible poetry use. 

****

 

William tended to avoid paying any attention to what his physical body back on earth was doing. He had very little say there anymore and it all tended to horrify him. He didn’t know what he thought he’d been agreeing to when that terrible woman had offered him a world that was so much more than the one he knew. He should have said no. There’d been precious little that’d been sweet, beautiful, or glowing since then.

Thusly, he just ignored himself. The blood and the violence, to be sure, but the fornicating most of all. He wanted no part of it.

A bit of him was still there, of course, as a vampire was a hybrid, but as William’s soul, he’d been forced out when the demon had come in and he had been floating alone through the ether ever since.

Until now. Until this girl that both his physical self and demon were besotted with, but William didn’t know quite how to take suddenly being forced to spend eternity with her soul without so much as a by your leave.

Dimly, he was aware of Spike and B saying the words and performing the, er, actions that intertwined the two of them for forever. Once the ritual was completed, he didn’t have long to wait.

Buffy’s soul, gleaming, appeared from out of the darkness and circled around him, until, in a moment of wonder, it collided and combined with him.

William found himself in the sitting room he imagined himself to be in when he grew tired of just being a formless will-o-the-wisp on the wind and needed to feel like he was still a person. It was a bit of an amalgamation of rooms from the home he’d lived in with his mum. There was furniture made from rich mahogany and upholstered in lush cream damask. Bookcases lined the walls and gas lamps—that did not reek, thank you very much—cast a warm glow over everything.

Abruptly, a young woman appeared in front of him. She was dressed as a cheerleader in a short, pleated skirt and tight yellow sweater. It was indecent.

William sniffed.

Hussy.

He perched on the edge of the sofa and watched the girl as she looked around.

“Cool. Old-fashioned, but cool.”

She snapped her gum and strode over to him. Her blonde hair, tied up in a high ponytail, bounced from side to side as she walked. He couldn’t help but notice the amber and honey-colored strands that were interwoven with the brighter yellow ones. It was quite fetching.

Er…or it was if you liked blondes.

The girl studied him for a moment before sticking out her hand. “Hi, I’m Buffy!” she chirped.

“William,” he muttered, clasping her fingers. They were warm and soft in his, the nails a delicate pink color. He quickly let her go and she sat down on the other end of the sofa from him, stretching out her scandalously bare legs. No self-respecting woman would dare to display that much silky smooth…uh, she should put something more concealing on.

Realizing he’d been staring at her thighs for rather a long time—and couldn’t she decently cross her legs?—William pushed his glasses up on his nose before folding his hands in his lap.

“I suppose we’re to be together for quite a while?” he said, lacking any other ideas for conversation. It wasn’t as if souls had much cause to worry about the weather or price of tea.

Buffy nodded. She smacked her gum again and dropped her head back against the top of the sofa. “You should know I’m just regular old me, by the way. No Slayer mojo. That all stayed with my body.” She shrugged, but William saw a shadow flit across her face for a moment.

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

Buffy sat up and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “I really want to lie, but I guess souls can’t do that. So, no, I’m not really okay with it. I was special and now…I’m not.”

“Awfully sorry to hear that,” he said, not entirely sure if that was the correct response. It’d been a long time since he’d had to converse with anyone.

Buffy fidgeted on the cushion of the sofa, her entire countenance downcast.

William found he didn’t like to see her looking so sad.

“I also apologize that you’ve been stuck with me. I’m afraid I’m not very exciting. I like to read and I write poetry on occasion. I know a…a modern girl such as yourself will most likely find it all very tedious.”

Buffy’s eyes met his. Goodness, her eyes were large and such an interesting shade of green. He scooted a hair closer to her, trying to find a name for the exact color. Emerald was too trite. Newly mown hay, perhaps.

Mayhap a compliment would make her feel better? Unlike his physical self, William was not schooled in the ways of the fairer sex, but he did believe most women liked to be praised. In Buffy’s case, it wouldn’t even be flattery, as on closer inspection she was proving to be quite stunning.

“Your eyes are truly remarkable. Like nothing, I’ve ever seen,” he said and, to his astonishment, Buffy ducked her head and blushed.

“T-t-thank you,” she stammered as she turned her head, her gaze going to the numerous shelves of books. “So, um, what kind of stuff do you like to read?”

“All kinds, but especially the fantastical. The works of Jules Verne pique my imagination.”

Buffy smiled a little lopsidedly and looked down. She traced the stitching of the sofa’s cushions with one finger. “He wrote about the guy on the submarine. Captain…Eo?”

“Nemo,” William said with a chuckle and Buffy sighed.

“Sorry, school and me weren’t really mixy. And then with the slaying.” She scrunched up her nose in the most endearing way. “I didn’t get a chance. Not that I didn’t want to, or even couldn’t, but it’s hard to stay awake in class when you’ve been up all night taking out the baddies.” Her eyes returned to him. “Maybe now I’ll get to learn stuff?”

William was taken aback, he’d been imaging that the young lady sitting across from him would rather do anything besides put forth the effort to become educated. His entire assessment of Buffy changed and the tragedy of her short life, which had hardly been her own, struck him.

He very badly wanted to make things as better for her as he could. He’d bet his eye teeth that Buffy was clever and only had need of some encouragement to realize her potential in the area of academics.  He would gladly stoke that fire.

“I would be happy to read it to you, my dear, if you would like.”

Buffy’s smile lit up her whole face. “I would totally like.”

Being with Buffy was proving not to be such a hardship after all. For the first time since he’d been forced from his own body, William felt alive. He stood, meaning to go and retrieve the Jules Verne book, but Buffy jumped to her feet as well. She was looking at him with her head cocked to the side.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” she asked.

“Uncomfortable?”

She bit her lip and he promptly forgot what he was doing, enchanted by the sight of her teeth pressing into the plumpness of her lower lip.

“Your shirt looks like it’s choking you,” she whispered. Her hands landed on the lapels of his coat and inched upwards. He really should stop her, but was too shocked to do more than stare. Her fingers nimbly undid his cravat and pulled it from around his neck.

He could barely breathe. She returned her fingers to his throat and undid the top buttons of his shirt.

“There, is that better?” she asked. He hadn’t the foggiest. All he could feel was her hot hands pressed against his chest.

“I…I suppose.” He had thought being a soul meant that he’d left behind his base desires. In all the time he’d spent floating about, he’d never once felt the cravings of the flesh. Now he was beset with them.

Buffy’s hands trailed upwards again, this time not stopping until her palms were resting against his cheeks. She bashfully regarded him from under her lashes. “You’re very handsome, William.”

William felt his mouth drop open and a fiery blush stain his face. This utterly gorgeous woman was calling him handsome? He wished for an eighth of the charm his physical self was able to exude without even thinking. As it was, he found himself mute.

“I want you to read to me,” Buffy said. “And I bet you can teach me all kinds of stuff I want to know, like speaking French, and I want to talk with you for hours and hours and find out what makes you who you are, and…and…I really want to kiss you.”

He took her hands in his and lowered them down. “I’m not sure such a thing would be proper—”

Buffy snorted inelegantly. “Seriously? We’re bound from here to the end of time. Possibly past. Who knows? It has marriage beat all to hell…er, heck.”

William blinked at her. She had a point. He hadn’t thought of it like that. They were very much joined in the eyes of God. Two made into one. As beings given a physical form of a sort, in this place that wasn’t exactly a place, it certainly could not be wrong to unite together in whatever manner they chose.

“It would not be a sin if we are married,” he hedged.

Giving a cry of delight, Buffy grasped his fingers tighter and brought her mouth to his. It was a gentle press, her lips soft.

Dear lord.

He was on fire.

There was a slight noise and he realized she’d swallowed her gum. He also figured out his eyes were closed, but then her warm tongue was running over his lower lip. He let out a startled gasp and, jiminy, her tongue was in his mouth.

He groaned, and, of their own volition, his arms wrapped around her. Her fingers were in his hair, tugging him closer. Recalling he had a tongue of his own, William hesitantly slid it against hers, then dared to slip it over the line into her mouth.

She was every decadent sweet he’d ever tasted rolled into one and a million times richer.

Her tongue was roving everywhere in his mouth, then pausing to dance with his for a few moments before returning to mapping out the contours of his teeth and lips. He mimicked her actions, though he was increasingly aware that her entire body was pressed snuggly against his and that a goodly portion of his blood seemed to be making for his manhood.

“Buffy,” he gasped, his eyes flying open as he pulled back from her and put some space between them. He didn’t want to cause her to be uncomfortable by rudely shoving the evidence of his physical arousal against her.

She looked confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not, dear heart. I simply do not want to impose on you.”

“Impose on me?” Her eyebrows drew together and she frowned, right up until her gaze flicked downwards. Oh, bother. His trousers were doing very little to conceal how she’d affected him. Mortified, William started to drag the edges of his coat closed but was prevented by Buffy pressing herself flush against him again. Her mouth was planting gentle kisses on his throat as her hand landed right on his…on his…

“Feels nice,” Buffy whispered, her breath warm against his skin, as her fingers squeezed him through his pants.

“Th-th-thank you,” he stammered. What was the etiquette for this sort of situation?

She continued to kiss, lap, and nip his neck as her devilish hands undid the fastenings of his trousers. William was having a very difficult time convincing his brain that it should have thoughts. Having gotten his pants undone, she began to slip her hand inside and he braced himself for the sensation of her warm fingers on his manhood.

Only she froze. “William?” She said, sounding confused. “You’re not exactly moving.” Her hands fell away from him and it was all he could do not to seize her wrists and return them to his person.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. It was still deucedly hard to think. Buffy was every beautiful and remarkable thing rolled into one and he found himself understanding much better what his physical-self must be going through. William also wanted to touch the sun. “You must forgive me.”

“Do you not want to…” Buffy trailed off and her eyes went to the floor. “I thought you meant you wanted to, y’know, do that with me.” She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “I’ve only done it the once, and I wasn’t any good at it, but I learn fast, so I know I can do better.”

It took William a moment to suss out her meaning. The poor girl thought he didn’t want her because she was not skilled in the pleasures of the bedroom? His own embarrassment and worry drained away. They were quite literally two lost souls and William would be damned before he would let such a precious gift as this wonderous woman be wasted on him.

He put her fingers under her chin and raised her gaze to his. “Once is a more than I achieved,” he said, feeling a blush yet again color his cheeks. “I think we will have to figure this out together. I have heard it said that practice makes perfect.”

Buffy blinked owlishly at him, then she smiled shyly. “That sounds pretty cool.”

He started to reach for her hand. There was a bedroom, in this non-place. He rarely used it, preferring to return to his formless state when he needed rest, but Buffy must have been too impatient to pause even so long as it took to transverse to another room.

She flew into his arms, knocking him off balance and sending them both tumbling to the floor. He ended up under her, her legs on either side of his torso and her mouth back on his. Her hands were scrambling to undo the buttons of his vest, though she was meeting with little luck.

In the back of his mind, the words from very long ago surfaced. The ones that had led to his physical death and to him, as a soul, being exiled in loneliness.  _“You’re beneath me…”_

For the first time, William was able to shove that poison away with little fanfare. As Buffy’s lithe body undulated against him he figured that being beneath her was a very good place to be indeed.

With a frustrated growl, Buffy let go of his vest and sat upright. She was right over his…erection, and he could feel the heat from her private area searing into him.

William gasped and, at last, gave into his body’s demands. He ground his aching cock against her and Buffy’s head tilted back as she moaned loudly.

He’d caused her to emit that noise. Him! He was a king! This delicious woman wanted him.

Though he supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised. “I do believe we will find we shall suit each other rather well,” he said as he made quick work of the buttons that had vexed her. “Physically, that is. Though I do hope we also find each other’s company agreeable.” Vest open, he undid the fastenings of his shirt, as clothing was becoming cumbersome.

Buffy’s gaze returned to his face as she ran her hands over his now exposed chest. “I, like, totally agree with you, but what made you say so?”

“Well, our physical-selves have been performing this act with a frequency that puts rabbits to shame. It stands to reason we shall fit together admirably also.”

She quirked her utterly kissable lips to the side. “Yeah, humping like bunnies for sure. No reason they should have all the fun.” Buffy’s hands went to the hem of her sweater and she pulled it off over her head before tossing it away. Her undergarment quickly followed. William’s mouth went dry and he had to adjust his glasses as he gazed on the magnificence of her unclothed bosom.

Taking his fingers in hers, she laid his palms over her breasts and he shuddered at how perfect they felt in his hands. Reverently, he touched and stroked them as Buffy mewled and wiggled on top of him. It was a delight to discover she liked her breasts to be touched just as much as he liked to touch them.

Her nipples were two hard little points that were the shade of a ripe strawberry. The idea that he absolutely must taste them entered his head and would not leave. Bracing himself with one arm, he sat up and closed his mouth around one of the succulent points.

Buffy’s fingers dug into his shoulders and she made the most amazing noise.

Strawberries did not have a taste half as pleasing.

He switched sides, but was only allowed a few moments of feasting before Buffy pushed him flat once more.

“Need you,” she panted as she grappled with the front of his trousers, finally succeeding in bringing forth his cock. Her hand firmly glided up and down his shaft and William was afraid he might fly apart from the sight and feel of her tanned fingers on him.

Then she was lifting herself onto her knees and fumbling with her skirt.

William almost stopped her. He greatly wished to see and touch her most intimate area—and taste, an unplumbed corner of his mind suggested—but he reminded himself that they quite literally had eternity to explore each other and Buffy seemed very determined to consummate their connection immediately.

Not that he had any protestations against such action. She’s my wife, he thought, perhaps a bit belatedly. My lovely, intelligent, golden-haired wife.

Buffy, eyes wide, finally got her skirt hiked up and her frilly knickers pulled to one side. Her attention was rapt on his face as she positioned his cock at the opening to her body and sank down achingly slowly.

Whatever he’d imagined a woman’s intimate embrace would feel like, it hadn’t even been close to the reality that was the soft, slick grip of Buffy’s inner walls.

She continued to lower herself until he was fully sheathed inside her and then paused, panting.

It was a marvel he’d never before dreamed of, to be so intimately connected to another. He had the notion that his heart had already quite fallen for Buffy.

Atop him, she groaned softly and shifted, her snug channel gripping his member tightly before relaxing. He really had no idea what he was doing. What if she was not as enamored with his invasion of her body as he was?

“Is it alright, luv? I’m not hurting you?” William thought he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he gave her even a second of pain.

She shook her head vigorously from side to side, the motion traveling through her body to his.

He inhaled sharply.

“You feel amazing,” she said, voice breathy. “It’s like we were made for each other.”

William knew a goofy grin was splitting his face. “I fancy that idea. That despite the time between our entrances into the world, that we were, in fact, always destined for this moment.” Having her with him made all his years of solitude seem like a mere pittance of a payment. If only he’d known such wonder had awaited him.

Buffy rocked her hips experimentally and they both groaned. “You say such yummy things, William, I’m not surprised you’re into poetry and stuff. Will you write some for me?”

An unwelcome spark of shame lit in his chest. “I never said I was any good at it.”

Buffy frowned. “But no one has ever done anything like that for me before. And I bet whoever said that sort of thing to you was stupid.” Her frown deepened. “Really stupid.”

A chuckle rolled through him. How did she manage to make so many things better so quickly? “Dear heart, if you wish pretty words, I will endeavor to give them to you. And I must agree with your assessment of those involved.”

“But more loving first.”

His heart soared with her use of loving to describe what they were doing. It was a sacrament between husband and wife, and William desperately wanted to make love to his wife.

Buffy rocked her hips once more, then planted her hands on his chest. “Hang on, I haven’t done it like this before and have to do the figure-age with the moving.”

“Uh,” he agreed.

It took her only a few more seconds to work out how to swing her hips in the most delightful, rolling way.

William settled his hands on her sides, though they quickly developed a mind of their own and slid down to grasp her surprisingly firm backside. He clasped her tightly, encouraging her to ride him faster. The sound of their bodies colliding mixed with her excited whimpers and his own deep moans was a symphony more stirring than any he had ever heard played by mere instruments. 

Aware it was a losing battle, he struggled to keep his eyes open to watch Buffy as, breasts swaying, she worked herself on his cock. William did hope he was doing things correctly and there wasn’t something he was missing, but as Buffy seemed to not be complaining, he fancied that he was doing things in a suitable manner.

 All too soon, for he longed to be inside her for innumerable hours, he became aware that his passion was not far from peaking.

Should he warn her? Was that the done thing?

Beneath his hands, Buffy shook and the motion of her hips became more rapid. She leaned forward, grinding herself hard against him with each downstroke, until her mouth dropped opened and her face became a mask of pleasure. “William,” she gasped. “My William.” Around his cock, her sheath fluttered and pulsed.

He’d been told women could achieve heights of pleasure to equal a man’s, but no one had ever described how utterly devastating being the cause of such bliss was to a man’s heart.

Or how inspiring it was to one’s own loins.

He completely forgot to mention his approaching climax before he was overcome. His hips lifted off the ground and slammed his cock into Buffy’s welcoming body as he spent himself in wave after dizzying wave of pleasure. He called out her name and, somehow, he rose up enough, or pulled her down enough, to kiss her as their bodies shuddered through the final throes of ecstasy. 

Buffy collapsed forward to lie atop him and his cock slid from the haven of her body, making him dearly wish he could immediately return to it. Surely it would not take him long to recover? He did not wish to be separated from her for any length of time.

“Wow,” she gasped. “Are you sure you haven’t done that before?”

“I am very glad you found enjoyment in the act.” He didn’t know if he should feel quite as pleased with himself as he did, but he was unable to deny that having brought pleasure to his wife during their first coupling was making him feel nigh on invincible.

“God, you made me come so hard,” Buffy groaned, pressing her lips to his chest.

He was invincible.

“May I take you to bed, Buffy?” He tangled his fingers in the mane of her lustrous, sun-kissed locks. “I would very much like to remove the rest of your clothing and see all of you. You are an amazing jewel that deserves to be worshiped.”

Buffy sat up eagerly. “Would that worshiping include you using your tongue?”

“In whatever manner you would like me to employ it.”

She squealed and sprung to her feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with her.

“I read this thing in a magazine, about how a guy should, like, spell out the alphabet using his tongue on your clit. But I bet you could come up with better stuff than just any old alphabet.”

“Greek?” he croaked as he led her into the bedroom. He realized he needn’t have worried about returning to a state of arousal, Buffy truly was very inspirational. 

She pushed her skirt and underthings impatiently down her legs before crawling onto the bed, sitting so she was facing him. She spread her thighs apart and William could hardly believe he’d just been inside her, his wanton wife that wanted him to spell things out on her body with his tongue.

He wouldn’t trade her for the world.

As he removed the last vestiges of his own apparel, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to his physical body and the demon who shared it. They had sent him heaven in the form of a blonde girl from the colonies, one who was batting her eyelashes at him in the most enticing come-hither way. Eternity with her would be no hardship.

Grinning, William crawled onto the bed and between her legs. As he lowered his head, he knew just what line he’d start with as he tasted Buffy for the first time, for they had a great many pleasures still to discover. It was a poem he’d had memorized while still alive, believing he’d woo his intended with it one day, but now it would be put to much better use.

_Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove._


	9. Punch

Punch A/N: This story was written after a discussion on a fandom site about Captain America punching Riley. It's totally Stucky because I'm trash. This doesn't follow Marvel canon at all. Set sometime in later S4 of Buffy. One of the greatest moments in my life is when I got a note from a reader saying that she doesn't follow Marvel at all, but went with her S.O. to see Black Panther and during the inter-credit scenes she got excited because she recognized Bucky from my fic and turned to her S.O. and told him: That's Captain America's boyfriend! Yes! Yes he is!!

****

“Your hair’s looking really good today,” Steve said, running a hand through his boyfriend’s dark, wavy locks.

Bucky batted his hand away. “Quit. It’s all curly from the humidity and driving me nuts.”

“Its fine.” Steve smiled. Bucky always managed to get his hair just right, no matter how much he complained. “And I think the kids really found your stories about the cold war fascinating. I just seemed like an old fuddy-duddy to them. You’ll have to slap me the next time I say: ‘back in my day’.”

Bucky chuckled. He paused as they passed in front of a board that had announcements tacked up on it. “Hey.” He tapped one that was advertising a farmer’s market. “Think we can go? All that talking about good ole Mother Russia reminded me of how terrible the food was. Beets, beets, and if I was lucky, more beets. I could use something fresh.”

Bucky’s voice was lighthearted, but Steve didn’t miss the shadow of pain that passed over his boyfriend’s face. “Yeah, Stark’s not expecting us back from this little community outreach parade until Monday. We’ll get you some of those heirloom tomatoes you like and I could go for some handmade soap. The stuff in the store isn’t like how it was back…”

Bucky cuffed him on the shoulder.

“I deserved that one,” Steve sighed. He stuck his hand in the back pocket of Bucky’s jeans. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the hotel before we miss the new episode of Property Brothers.”

They hadn’t got far when they heard the sounds of a scuffle. Their eyes met and they came to the same conclusion: someone needed help. They took off running.

Rounding the next corner into an open space between buildings, they found a short blonde woman in a peasant blouse. Her face was flushed and she was twisting a man’s arm behind his back. The guy, with his bleached hair and all black ensemble, looked like the Eighties had grabbed ahold of him and never let him go.

“Spike!” The woman barked. “Tell the truth! NOW!”

Steve pulled up short and shared a puzzled frown with Bucky. The woman certainly appeared perfectly fine and the guy looked more annoyed than in pain.

“All right, you bloody harridan,” the man grumbled.  “You win. I do think Ross and Rachel belong together.”

 The woman rolled her eyes. “See, was that so hard to…” she trailed off as she realized there was an audience to her and her fellow's arguing. Immediately, she let him go and they stood side-by-side, wary looks on their faces. The guy straightened his duster and shoved his hands in his pockets.

 “Uh, we…ah…” Steve felt a little lost. He got the distinct impression that these two could take care of themselves.

 Bucky elbowed him. “Couple?” he mouthed.

 Steve nodded. That was obvious.

 “We just thought we heard something, but since it looks like everything’s fine we’ll just be going.” Bucky jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

 “You best be doing that. No telling what’s lurking out here,” the guy said. He pulled a cigarette pack out of his pocket and stuck one in the corner of his mouth, lighting it with a practiced motion.

 Steve felt compelled to say something, even as Bucky put a hand on his shoulder in warning. “You know those things will kill you, right?” Steve said to the man in the duster.

 Bucky groaned, but for some reason the guy and the girl found it hysterical. They had to prop each other up, hands on each other's shoulders, they were laughing so hard.

 “What?” Steve grumbled. “What’d I say?”

 Bucky shrugged helplessly.

 Steve crossed his arms in annoyance and was about to do an about face and leave the couple to yuk it up when a man, dressed in army fatigues, came hurtling out of the bushes. He raised a large taser rifle at the guy in the leather jacket.

 The couple were no longer laughing.  The girl stepped in front of the guy. “Riley,” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

 “Recapturing a dangerous HST. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll quit protecting him.”

 Steve frowned. What was a HST?

 The guy in the leather jacket had genuine fear in his eyes. “Slayer,” he said hesitantly and the girl glanced over her shoulder at him. “I…please, don’t…”

 Her eyes softened. “Look,” she snapped, turning back to the man with the gun. “I’m sorry, but I won’t let you take Spike back to be experimented on.”

 Steve felt Bucky tense. This was about to get ugly. “Hey, why don’t we just take a breather and-“ The business end of the taser swung towards him. Behind Riley, the girl grasped her boyfriend’s arm and both of them quickly disappeared into the trees. Smart move.

 “Experiments?” Bucky snarled through his teeth.

 “Well, yeah,” the soldier said.

 Steve felt sick. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the military could get up to some dumb things, but he’d thought they had at least stopped experimenting on sentient beings.

Riley shrugged “It’s not like they’re really human-“

 It was the wrong thing to say. With a roar, Bucky leapt forward, grabbing the idiot soldier and shaking him so the taser flew from his grasp.

 Steve thought about stopping Bucky, but…experiments. He shivered. Coulson was going to be getting a call. Something here needed further investigation.

 Bucky was trembling but appeared to be trying to get ahold of himself. Finally, he pushed the soldier away.

Steve smiled at Bucky, proud of how he had retained control.

Then Riley opened his mouth. “What is with you?” He said to Bucky. “And, really, does the shampoo you use come with a free tampon?”

Steve blinked and his jaw fell open. There was so much wrong with that insult he didn’t even know what part upset him the most.

Riley bent over to retrieve his gun and, without stopping to think, Steve hit him with an uppercut. He watched as the soldier sailed through the air before landing a good ten feet away. Riley rolled over and groaned but made no attempt to get up. Steve shook a finger at him. “You know, back in my day…”

“Steve,” Bucky said, slipping an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Don’t make me have to slap you.”

Steve shook his head and he heaved a sigh. “Sometimes I think we’ve come so far.”

“And sometimes it seems like history is endlessly repeating. Let’s get back and make some phone calls. We need to find out what this place is hiding.”

Steve nodded and wearily started to walk towards the edge of campus. He kept his head down until movement on a park bench caught his eye. “Hey, you were right,” he said, elbowing Bucky. “They are a couple.”

The blonde girl from earlier was sitting on the lap of the leather-clad guy and kissing him like it was going out of style.

Bucky smiled. “It’s nice to see at least some things in the world are still going right.”

Steve grabbed his boyfriend and pulled him into a hug. “Yeah they are,” he whispered before letting his lips find Bucky’s.

He was correct. Once in a while things did go right.


	10. Happily Ever Afer

**Happily Ever After**

A/N: A T (at the most) rated one-shot I wrote for the Spring 2017 round of Seasonal Spuffy. I didn't quite achieve what I was going for, but here it is anyway. 

Summary: Buffy goes home. 

****

As soon as she opened her eyes, Buffy knew where she was. Her memory hadn’t done it justice. It’d been all impressions of connection, warmth, and love, but being in the middle of it was so much better. The sense of relief at having finally laid down her burdens was all encompassing.

She was wearing a flowing white dress and standing amid a lush garden. The temperature was perfect and the breeze carried a lovely scent. Overhead, the sky was blue and gold without a rain cloud in sight.

Buffy smiled and hugged her arms tightly around herself. It was good to be back. Her life had stretched on much too long as it was. The whole not aging thing because of Willow’s resurrection spell had been fine for the century that Sp…her vampire had been at her side. They’d become so close that they’d hardly felt like separate beings. As everyone who’d remembered him before the soul had passed, it’d become normal to all the Slayers and Watchers that she and her vampire had always been together.

When Spike had dusted–sacrificing himself to hold back demons while two young children had fled–Buffy had gone catatonic for weeks. And then, to her horror, she’d lived. Sort of. She’d continued to exist in the world at any rate. Life had lost its meaning. After the first few years people had given up on trying to draw her out of her shell. She’d gone on missions when asked, fought, and then retreated to her rooms. She’d avoided everything, even doctor’s visits, until the pain in her abdomen had become too much to bear.

The doctor had been grim as he’d delivered the diagnosis of stage IV ovarian cancer. It’d already spread to her liver as well. Despite medical advances there was little hope he could offer and he’d lamented it hadn’t been caught earlier. Her blinding smile had surprised the heck out of him. She’d laughed and laughed. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was going to die lying down in a bed. She’d refused all treatment and asked to simply be made comfortable. There’d been no one for her to say good-bye to and no belongings with any value to give away.

Death had found her more than willing.

Her rest was finally at hand.

She walked barefoot across the spring grass and laughed at the antics of the brightly colored birds in the trees.

“Buffy!” a voice called.

Her eyes lit up. “Mommy!” She dashed into her mother’s arms. Joyce squeezed her tight, but then let her go so Dawn could hug her. So many people were there: Giles, Willow, Xander, Oz, Tara, Anya, and even Merrick. She was passed from loving set of arms to loving set of arms as her friends and family murmured their greetings.

“Hey,” said a voice she almost recognized from behind her. Buffy turned.

“Hi, Riley!” she said brightly.

“I hope you don’t mind, I just wanted to stop in and say welcome…or I guess it’s welcome back.”

“Thanks, Ri. It’s good to see you.”

He smiled and put a hand out to rest on her shoulder briefly. She covered it with her own and squeezed. Riley hadn’t lived very long, he’d died unceremoniously in a South American jungle. It was good to see he didn’t somehow blame her for that.

When he pulled his hand back. Buffy swiveled her head. This was all wonderful and she had so much she wanted and sit and talk about with everyone, but she was ready for the main show to start.

Where was he?

Honestly, she’d been expecting Spike to be the first one to greet her, maybe knocking her flat in his eagerness. She didn’t know if he’d look like she remembered with his perennially bleached hair, or if he’d appear more like his human self. And if there was anyone who’d manage to break heaven’s all-white dress code, it’d be Spike.

She stood on her tip-toes to see if maybe he was hanging back, perhaps sitting on a bench and waiting for her to come to him.

But he wasn’t there.

Buffy took a deep breath. Okay, she had to be wrong, this was heaven. She looked again, and then again, panic mounting. Spike wasn’t there.

“Buffy, is something wrong?” Willow asked.

Buffy backed away from the concerned faces of her loved ones. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach. This was no reward. The air clung hot and heavy to her and the scent of the flowers became cloying. The once perfect sky now mocked her.

“Honey?” her mother said, reaching out a hand towards her.

“This isn’t heaven, it can’t be heaven,” Buffy mumbled.

Xander knelt beside her. “It is, I don’t understand–“ She scrambled away from him. How could they not know who was missing? Were they all pretending he had never existed? Tears flowed freely down her face.

“What did I do?” she sobbed. “This is hell. It’s not a reward.” She curled up on the ground into a ball. “I’m in hell. This is hell. I was sent to hell.”

She could hear her friends and family talking amongst themselves, arguing about what to do and how to fix this, as if it was something wrong with her.

“Maybe I can help,” said a steady male voice. Buffy raised her head to look at the newcomer. He was leaning against the edge of a glowing white portal the size and shape of a door. It took her a few seconds to place him.

“A-A-Angel?” She hadn’t thought of him in years, he’d dusted in an alleyway in LA a year or so after the Sunnydale hellmouth had been closed. She’d come close to losing Spike that day without knowing it. When he’d appeared bruised and battered on her doorstep in Rome she’d nearly passed out from joy. Spike had been horrified to find that the Buffy he’d seen with Angel hadn’t really been her, but a decoy, and that the painfully thin, grieving girl that’d fallen weeping against him had been mourning and missing him all that time. They had never been further away from each other than the next room over until he’d been stolen from her. The last thing he’d said to her had been: “See you in a minute.” And she’d inanely replied: “Okay.” His had been a lie and hers had been stupid.

She was weeping again.

Angel knelt down beside her. “This is heaven, Buffy.”

“It can’t be,” she sobbed.

“It is, but Spike’s a vampire and while the good and the bad balance out, demons still can’t stay here.” Angel’s hand ghosted over her side, but he didn’t try to touch her. “C’mon. I’ll take you to him. Like me, he’s a permanent resident of Purgatory, but it’s not so bad. He’d be here himself if he knew you’d passed, but it’s difficult for him to watch the portals to Earth and see you but not be able to be with you, so I do it for the both of us.”

Buffy looked at the shocked faces of her friends and family.

“Don’t blame them,” Angel said as he helped her stand. “They don’t know all the rules. Usually here you don’t miss anyone, it’d be too sad, and those missing people are usually still alive. So even Dawn doesn’t understand what’s wrong. And don’t worry, whichever side of this portal you decide to live on, you can always visit the other.”

Angel walked through the glowing doorway. Buffy waved at the others and then stepped through with no hesitation. The difference was immediately apparent. The warm glow-y feeling of heaven was gone, replaced with a sort of blankness.

“This way,” Angel said, waving his hand to guide her down a dark street. It took her a minute to figure out why everything felt so familiar. They were walking down the main street of Sunnydale.

“Is this…?” she trailed off, looking at buildings she had long forgotten about but now that she could see them, she remembered with perfect clarity.

“Almost.”

“How?”

“Spike.” Angel turned down a side street that she knew would lead to her house. “Purgatory is malleable. You can make it how you want. He’s spent a lot of time reconstructing Sunnydale as it was when you guys lived there.”

“What about you?” Buffy asked.

“I have a little Irish farm, just like the one I grew up on. I don’t suppose my family will ever forgive me enough to come and see me, but it soothes my heart.”

“Thank you, for bringing me.” She couldn’t stop looking around at the houses and cars. It all felt so right.

“I didn’t do it just for you. Spike’s not really been okay since he got here. He barely speaks to me, except to ask about some detail of the town he doesn’t remember well, like the library of the old high school. I’ve had to live with his grief and watch him hurt. I’ve never known him to be like this. It’s been a good thing he’s had this to work on, I can’t imagine how much worse it’d be if he didn’t.”

“But why? Why do all this?” They were almost to her street. Anticipation was gnawing at her belly.

Angel sighed. “For the same reason I want to be in my childhood home. It’s easy to pretend that those who care about you are just on the other side of the door. Spike can sit on your back porch and believe you’ll be out in a moment, or sulk outside of the back door of the Bronze thinking you’ll come barreling out. Hell, even I do it. I’ll climb up that tree outside your window and pretend that you’re about to come through your bedroom door.”

Buffy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and put her hands on her hips. “Angel–“

“Don’t worry.” He shook his head. “I know whose girl you are. It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy those memories, or that I don’t still care about you.” She searched his face, but it was the truth. Angel at long last was putting her own wishes first.

They started walking again. “Is he at my house?” she asked.

“Probably not. Most nights there’s only one place he sits and waits for you.”

She didn’t need a second clue. Her muscles tensed.

“Buffy,” Angel said, catching her by the shoulder. “Your thoughts give things form here. Maybe a different outfit?” She looked down at her white dress.

“Oh, yeah.” She only had to concentrate for a moment before she found herself in a pair of jeans, boots, and a blue peasant blouse.

“The guy recreated an entire town for you, maybe you could at least give him a skirt?”

Buffy giggled and after a second her jeans changed into a tight black mini-skirt.

“There you go.” Angel patted her shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Buffy rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek before taking off in a flat-out sprint. She glanced at her house as she passed, excited for when she had time to come back and look inside. She hoped Spike had remembered Mr. Gordo.

She ran through the gate to Restfield and dodged headstones. It’d been more than a century but her feet remembered the way as if it’d been only yesterday. The crypt loomed before her and she hurled herself against the door, busting it open and landing lightly on her feet inside.

Spike, gaping, was rising from his chair. “Buffy?” he whispered.

It was him.

She couldn’t even speak, just throw herself into his arms. They banded around her and at last she was at peace.

Her hands couldn’t stop moving. They ran over everywhere she could reach: his arms, chest, back, shoulders, neck, hair–bleached and slicked back–and finally his beloved face, damp with tears.

“Oh luv, is it you? It is really you?”

“Yes, yes! I love you!”

“I love you, too.” His lips crashed into hers. He tasted perfect. This was heaven.

His mouth devoured hers, erasing their time apart until it became nothing, and then less than nothing.

Panting, she finally had to pull back to catch her breath. She looked into his fathomless blue eyes as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Will you stay with me?” Spike rasped.

“Forever, and then maybe a little longer.”

“Oh, Buffy.” The hand he had on her ass gripped her tighter. “Love the skirt by the way, kitten.”

She giggled. “Wait until you see what’s under it.”

He growled and nipped with blunt teeth at her neck, making her moan. His lips were just covering hers again when he paused. His brow furrowed as he turned his face towards the door of the crypt. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

She had to strain her ears, but then she did. Voices outside the door. Reluctantly, Spike let go of her. She took his hand and walked to the door, swinging it open. In front of the crypt, dressed in the clothing they would have been wearing in her junior year of high school, were Joyce, Dawn, and all her friends.

She pulled a slack-jawed Spike out of the crypt and onto the grass. “What are you all doing here?” she asked.

Willow grinned and waved shyly at Spike, who managed a faint wave in return. “Red,” he said in wonder.

“Well…” Willow twisted her fingers together. “We got to talking and it just didn’t seem right that there was this whole big place here without anyone in it…”

Joyce put a hand on Willow’s shoulder. “If you belong here, Buffy, then we do too.” Oz and Tara, standing on either side of Willow, nodded in agreement

“But it’s not heav–“

“Close enough,” Xander said with a laugh. Anya was leaning against him. “I want to be here, in our apartment.”

“I want to work at the Magic Box again.” Anya was clutching a bridal magazine in her hands.

Dawn sighed happily. “I want me and you and Mom to be a family in our house. When you’re not…y’know.” She blushed and waved a hand at Spike. He winked at Dawn, making her flush glow brighter.

“I suspect with us here others might start to show as well.” Giles pulled his glasses off and fished a handkerchief from his pocket. “And as you’re a Slayer in a town with a hellmouth, you will still need to patrol and I doubt those patrols will be uneventful. Otherwise you wouldn’t enjoy them much.”

Buffy threw her head back and laughed. Because it was true, patrols with nothing to slay would be lame. It seemed impossible that she’d once desperately wanted to be someone else doing anything else absolutely anywhere else besides Sunnydale.

Now it was paradise. Her heaven.

She wanted nothing more than to spend eternity with these people in this place.

“Thank you, guys,” she said, overwhelmed with the gift she’d been given. Spike’s fingers squeezed hers. “And I’ll see you all tomorrow.” The rest of her night was already planned. Angel, standing a ways from everyone else, caught her eye. He nodded at her and then Spike, who raised a hand in acknowledgment.

Buffy yelped as she abruptly found herself bent back over Spike’s arm as he kissed her passionately.

Dawn squealed, Willow sighed, and Xander mumbled something about PDAs. All was right with the world.

“Rupert, ol’chap,” she heard Merrick say.  “You owe me a pint and an explanation as to why William the Bloody is snogging my charge.”

“Your charge?” Giles replied in a clipped tone.

Spike’s eyes opened, love and desire making them brilliant. Her heart was bursting with happiness. His lips moved against hers: “Welcome home, Slayer.”


	11. Spelling Bee

Spelling Bee

A/N: More E rated Thing of Doom smut! This is the one where William gets all the brownie points! 

****

Buffy ran her finger down the page of the dictionary. “Elucubrate.”

William looked over the top of his newspaper at her. “E-l-u…you know, Miss Buffy, why am I spelling words while Demon is occupied as he is?”

She pouted at William. He was sitting, still fully dressed from having run out to get the paper, against the headboard with his legs stretched out beside her.  Buffy, on the other hand, was lying on her stomach, naked except for a towel over her butt, while a completely naked Demon straddled her thighs and was massaging her. Currently he was facing her feet and working the kinks out of her calves. 

William was still eyeing her.

“Because I really like…” She walked her fingers up his leg. “Your big…” She brushed the inside seam of his pants. “Brain.”

“E-l-u-c-u-b-r-a-t-e,” William promptly said.

“Right!” Buffy returned to looking in the dictionary and William sighed.  She sucked on her lip as she searched, trying to locate a word to stump him.  Hmm, that was a good one: “Smaragdine.”

“S-m-a-r-a-g-d-i-n-e,” he said from behind his newspaper.

“Wow! Right again! Let me find another one.” She flipped to a different letter and started skimming. Demon caught one of her feet in his strong hands and pushed on her instep, making her groan loudly. She glanced at William and caught him peeking around the side of the page at her. He immediately flicked the paper back into place.

“Give me another one, Miss Buffy.”

Demon switched feet, wrenching another deep moan out of her. William wiggled his hips slightly and scooted his legs a little further apart.

Her eyes skittered across the page, not really interested in it anymore. “William,” she sing-songed.

“Uh, yes?”

“Are you turned on?”

There was a pause. “Just give me another word.”

She pretended to look by flipping absently through the dictionary. “Um, how about…”

Demon shifted, turning so he was facing her head again. Two fingers, already divested of their claws, slipped into her pussy.

Buffy gasped. “Oh, cunnilingus.”

William dropped his paper just as Demon grabbed her hips and lifted them off the bed so his tongue could replace his fingers.

“Dear me!” William huffed, though Buffy didn’t believe he could be that shocked, especially since the front of his pants was already tented out. With a soft grunt, William scooted down the bed until he was lying alongside her.

Demon’s fingers were circling her clit while his tongue drove in and out of her slick channel.

William’s pink lips were a hairsbreadth from hers. His hand was warm on her back as he used a fingertip to write the letters against her skin as he said them. “C-u-n-n-i-l-i-n-g-u-s.”

He kissed her softly, his tongue gentle in her mouth even as Demon’s was roughly driving her higher and higher.

With a low moan she came. William swallowed her cries of pleasure while Demon lapped up the rush of juice that flowed from her.

“Another word?” William panted when she started to relax.

“Fellatio.”

William raised an eyebrow. Demon, however, immediately moved past her—pausing to toss the dictionary off the bed—and sat propped against the headboard. His erection curved enticingly up onto his belly. Buffy crawled forward and hummed happily as she slipped her mouth over his cock.

“F-e-l…”

Buffy smiled around Demon’s shaft. William was saying each letter as she dropped her head down and sucked on the hardness in her mouth.

“…l-a-t-i-o.”

Demon was holding her hair up in a ponytail while she worked. The bed dipped as William moved so he had a good view. He was on his knees, head tilted to one side. From the corner of her eye she watched as he slowly undid his belt and fly.

Hand around the base of Demon’s cock she pulled back just enough gasp out: “Masturbation.”

William smirked. Pushing his pants and boxers down around his knees he fisted his hard-on. Stroking leisurely, he timed his spelling with the movements of his hand. “M-a-s-t-u-r-b-a-t-i-o-n.” He grunted at the end and used his other hand to cup his sac.

Buffy was impressed, though really he could just be stringing random letters together at this point and she might not notice.

“That’s not what you really want me to be doing right now, is it?” William asked. His hand paused and he circled the tip of his cock with his thumb.

She shook her head and Demon grunted as her teeth lightly grazed him.

“What do want, Miss Buffy?”

She managed to pull her head up again. “Intercourse!” She felt good about that one. Sex would have been too easy for William to spell.

Chuckling, William shuffled behind her and she eagerly widened her knees. Demon let go of her hair so that it pooled in his lap. He was making happy, snuffling noises.

The tip of William’s cock pushed into her opening. He braced his hand on her hips and swiftly plunged his cock to the hilt inside her. A wave of pleasure slammed into her as her pussy stretched around his shaft.

 “I-“ He pulled back and thrust hard again. “-n-“ He continued, driving her mad and making her keen around Demon’s shaft. “-t-e-r-c-o-u-r-s-e…oh, god.” William was breathing hard as he plowed into her from behind.

Demon had her hair in his hands, very gently tugging her back down each time she raised her head up.

Tasting Demon in her mouth while William steadily thrust into her was overwhelming. She’d been so lost with so much hidden pain for so many endless days. The world had gone gray. But now? Now it was impossible to be lost when both her boys were loving her. The world had become the sights and sounds and feel of their bodies pleasuring hers.

With a howl she came again, bucking against William, who moaned and sped up the swing of his hips. Lights were flashing behind her eyelids, joyous fireworks.

Demon was grunting and his hands in her hair had tightened into fists. She flicked her tongue in firm strokes over the underside of his cock and bobbed her head quicker. Thighs quivering, Demon came with a roar. His cock jerked in her mouth and she had to swallow frantically to keep up with the cool spurts of semen.

When he was at last spent she gently let him drop from her mouth and laid her head on his thigh as she caught her breath. Demon wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her steady while William continued to work her pussy. Cooing softly, Demon ran his hands through her hair to untangle the snarls he’d made.

William’s rhythm became ragged. “Oh god, Miss, I…” With a hard thrust he came, groaning as he spilled himself into her body.  He pulled his softening cock from her and Buffy immediately collapsed to the bed. William crawled until he could rest his head on Demon’s other thigh, then flopped on the mattress as well.

“I have one more word,” Buffy said, biting her lip. Demon, purring, settled a hand on each of their heads.

“Okay,” William whispered.

“Love.”

The corners of William’s lips turned up. “B-u-f-f-y.”


	12. ToD Valentines

A/N: I really like this little Thing of Doom story. It wanted to be written very badly and I can still make myself cry just by reading it. It's nothing fancy, but I really like it. Rated E and warnings for W/D/B smut. 

****

The elevator doors opened with a muted clang. Buffy wandered down the hallway, rubbing at her tired eyes. It’d been a long day and all she wanted to do was see her guys and then slip into unconsciousness. William would be warm and snuggly and Demon would purr like crazy as he cuddled against her. It sounded divine.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. The soft scent of roses washed out. Brows drawn together, she looked up and gasped. The bright overhead lights were off and lit candles sat on the small table and some of the kitchen counters. A trail of rose petals led from the door to the bed, where they’d been scattered over the white fitted sheet. William and Demon were standing on either side of the mattress, both looking nervous with their hands behind their backs.

And…was that…pink glitter? On Demon’s cheek?

Buffy crossed her arms. “And what have you two been up to while I was stuck uselessly poking around an abandoned building with Wes and Willow?”

“Well.” William smiled hesitantly. “I went down to grab the paper this morning and the little store in the lobby had gotten a shipment of Valentine’s Day stuff.” He rocked back on his heels.  “And we didn’t know…erm, I’m guessing…maybe hoping…”

“I understand,” she said, and she did. They were expecting to be back to normal by February 14th, but wanted to express their love in their own ways now. And they both looked completely embarrassed. It was adorable. She shrugged off her coat, tossed it aside, and toed off her boots, leaving her in a t-shirt and jeans. She walked towards the bed. “So, are those presents that you two have behind your backs?”

“Erm.” William blushed bright red. “Y-y-yes, uh, here you go.” He held out his hand. In it was a perfectly shaped red paper heart. Taking it, she turned it over. There was a smaller, light pink heart with William’s extremely neat handwriting filling the space in careful lines. She read a few and her eyes got very round.

“William, is this a poem? About me? You wrote this about me?” She looked up just in time to see all the color drain from his face. Demon made an alarmed noise and rushed around the bed to gather William into a tight hug. Buffy frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Demon cooed and patted William’s head.

William swallowed hard. “Uh, yes, Miss Buffy. It is about you. I wrote some of it before…when I was still wandering the halls as a ghost.”

Her heart was singing. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” She read the rest of it quickly. It was about how, even though he found her incredibly beautiful, all the very best parts of her were ones you couldn’t see, like her courage, loyalty, and ability to love. She was very impressed he’d gotten everything to rhyme, but she was going to have to ask later about some of the bigger words. What did effulgent mean?

Looking up, she found William, still loosely embraced by Demon, staring at her and wringing his hands. Which wasn’t something she thought people actually did. He wasn’t simply nervous, he appeared just this side of terrified. There was a story there, somewhere, though what kind of women wouldn’t want charming words written about them? “Oh, William,” she breathed, finding herself close to tears. “It’s amazing. I love it, thank you.”

Demon shoved William towards her and she clasped him in a fierce hug. After a second he was hugging her back. “Do you really like it?” he asked shyly.

“Yes. Are you fishing for compliments? I thinks it’s cool how all the lines sound even and they rhyme, but mostly I’m just blown away by the fact that you see me like that.  _A Valkyrie queen with the heart of a lion._  I’m serious, nobody has ever said things to me like that. I’m always the girl that gets called to beat things up and then I get pushed away until I’m needed again.” She clasped him tighter. “I love you, William. Thank you.”

He trembled slightly against her. “I love you too.” Tilting back her head, she gazed into his sweet face. He was beaming. Buffy had the impression she’d just fixed something that’d been broken for a very long time.

Demon made a growling, coughing noise.

“Ah, I do believe someone else want their turn. And I should point out that Demon is not able to read nor write, but he wanted very badly to say this to you and he did his best. While naked, because he refused to put pants on for most of the day, so heaven knows where the glitter might have ended up.”

She glanced at Demon, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his hands once more behind his back. “How’d you get him dressed?” she asked.

“Told him you wouldn’t look at the valentines otherwise. He worked so hard on it he wanted to make sure you saw it.”

Buffy chuckled, because William was right. Coming home to a naked Demon meant she might have just jumped him instead of waiting for prezzies.

William let her go and she took the few steps to reach Demon. He bowed his head and pressed his cold cheek against hers while he rumbled happily. After a moment, he stepped away and bashfully held out a pink heart towards her. There was glitter and bits of lace glued to it haphazardly, but in the middle, in very shaky and uneven letters, I LOVE YOU was spelled out in black marker.

The tears she’d been holding back spilled over and she launched herself at Demon, clinging to him with her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “I love you too!” she said, peppering his face with kisses while he hugged her bruisingly tight with one arm.

A warm hand touched her back. “He’s got something else for you,” William said. Sheepishly, she let Demon go and stood with her hand out. Looking proud of himself, Demon carefully laid a heart-shaped box of chocolate on her palm.

Buffy squealed and, after carefully setting Demon’s valentine next to William’s on the table, she tore into the package. They looked scrumptious. “Is one of them an orange crème?” she asked Demon. He bent over the package and sniffed, then grabbed one of the pieces and handed it to her. Sure enough, it was what she’d wanted. That was handy. The chocolate was delicious and the filling just the right texture and flavor. It was good enough to make her close her eyes and moan.

When she opened them a second later, Demon was naked, his erection pointing in her direction. William had a hungry look on his face as well, and the front of his khakis were tented out. Her boys were so easy.

She set the box of candy down. “You were both so sweet to me, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything to give you in return. Maybe there’s something I can do for you two? Y’know, to show my appreciation?” Buffy bit her lip to keep from giggling. Most obvious innuendo ever.

Demon looked at William who almost immediately nodded. Buffy squeaked as she abruptly found herself slung over Demon’s shoulder. His hand landed with a smack on her ass. As he carried her to the bed, she glanced up to find William unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m certain there are a few things you can do, Miss Buffy.”

Demon dropped her on her back on the bed and crawled in next to her. He paused to kiss her, sighing contentedly against her lips, before scooting up to sit against the headboard with his long legs stretched out and his hard-on curving up onto his stomach. Buffy rolled onto her hands and knees and glanced over her shoulder to where William was meticulously removing his belt. She sighed. “This century?” she called and Demon snorted. He poked at her with a toe and when she returned her eyes to him he pointed at his erection.

“You don’t want to wait?” she asked, trying not to giggle as Demon whined in answer and bucked his hips off the bed. “Fine, have it your way.”

Demon cooed appreciatively as she pulled her top and pants off before turning to straddle his lap, her back to his front. He patted her rear end and grabbed her hip to guide her down onto his cock. They both sighed when he was fully sheathed.

William had gotten his shoes, socks and pants off, the latter neatly hanging over the back of a chair. Currently he was squinting at the buttons on the cuff of his shirt. “William,” she called, rolling her hips and making Demon grunt. Huffing in frustration, William gave up and climbed onto the bed so he was kneeling beside her and Demon. She grabbed the front of William’s shirt and pulled him close, her mouth seeking his.

William’s kisses were warm and sweet, even as Demon drove his hard shaft up into her. There was a slight pull on her scalp as Demon gathered the ends of her long hair together. Once he had them bunched up he buried his face in the blonde strands, making happy noises. William broke the kiss, chuckling as he watched his counterpart over her shoulder.

“He really does like your hair,” William said with amusement.

Buffy was too busy enjoying the slide of Demon’s cock in and out of her to respond. Her hands went to the buttons of William’s dress shirt. Undoing them one by one she kissed the warm skin of his chest as she worked her way down until his shirt was hanging open.

William shuffled on his knees towards the foot of the bed, grasping his erection in one hand and pumping it while he watched her ride Demon. Raising her arms, she rested her crossed wrists on the top of her head. Demon released her hair and  one clawed hand gripped her hip while the other went to massage her breast.

Buffy moaned like a porn star while William watched with heavily lidded eyes. She knew how much he got off on seeing Demon screw her.

“What would you like?” she purred and William flushed pink.

“Erm…” He paused and gasped as he worked his hand over himself. “I’d like…harder. Let him do you harder.”

“From behind? Or on my back?”

William’s blush deepened. “On your back…please.” He sucked in a breath. “W-w-with your legs s-spread really wide.”

Buffy peeled herself off Demon and lay down, letting her legs fall open. Demon knelt between her thighs, sliding his cock back into her and pressing her legs even wider apart with his cool fingers. Buffy moaned and twisted the sheet and few rose petals in her hands as he began pistoning his hips.

The rap of the headboard against the wall was loud and the entire bed was shimmying as Demon jackhammered into her. The walls of her pussy were tightening down and the tension in her belly was coiling higher, but it wasn’t enough…she just needed…her clit…

Buffy opened her eyes. Demon’s yellow eyes were fixed on her body. The candlelight was catching him just right and she could see there was glitter in his hair. Another streak of it on his lower abdomen was flashing as he fucked her. She glanced over at William, who still had his shirt and glasses on and was lazily continuing to stroke his cock.

Ah, of course. Demon would get her worked up and William would finish the job.

Her attention snapped back to Demon as he slammed hard into her and paused to grind. He thrust a half dozen more times, plunged deep again, threw his head back, and came with a howl. His thick cock jerking as he spent his load had her gasping and her thighs quivering. Quickly, he pulled out of her and she found herself being rolled onto her side. William hitched her leg over his hip and pushed his hard-on into her channel.

His body stilled as his lips caught hers. Demon cuddled against her back and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the nape of her neck. William’s hand worked its way to her clit and rubbed it in just the right way. Body shaking, she came, keening her pleasure into William’s mouth as his tongue worshiped her. Demon’s hand was on her breast, tweaking her nipple and making her buck as waves of delight ricocheted inside her.

“Love you,” William whispered as his mouth left hers so he could pull her tight against him.

“Love you too,” she gasped. William’s hips were rocking, the slide of his cock against the sensitive walls of her channel making her breathless. Demon’s hand grasped hers and laid it over the middle of William’s chest, pressing their conjoined fingers against the frantic beat of William’s pulse.

Twisting her neck, she glanced back at Demon, who looked happy and peaceful. She didn’t entirely understand her boys’ need to have the demon use her hard and the man sweetly bring her over the edge, but since it made both of them so content she wasn’t about to start complaining.

Her thoughts scattered as another orgasm started to build. William had himself angled so that he was grinding her clit with each stroke. Demon had returned to playing with her breasts and…oh wowza…she was panting and sweating, her arm wrapped around William as her thighs shook, her pussy clamped, and she came again, her cry muffled against William’s shoulder.

He stroked her hair lovingly as she came back down, though his breathing was starting to hitch.

Demon’s hand left her and there was the noise of him biting off a claw. Cold fingers brushed her hip briefly but he reached past her. William jerked in her arms as Demon found what he’d been aiming for. “Oh god,” William said as his hips moved harder and faster. “Ohgodohgodohgod–“ His body stiffened, his face went slack, and his eyes rolled up as he came.  

The warm rush of his semen made Buffy sigh with a bone deep satisfaction. Having both her boys taken care of…Demon wiggled behind her, his renewed erection pressed against her ass. Really?

William rolled onto his back, seemingly uncaring of the combination of her juices and his and Demon’s come that was drying on his cock. She amended it to completely not caring as he started to snore lightly.

Demon wiggled again, laying down flat once he had her attention. “Want something?” she asked, amused at the petulant look he gave her when she didn’t instantly move. He wagged his tongue at her. “Let me guess, after all the work you did today you think I should give you a blow job?” Demon nodded eagerly and relaxed back against the bed with a happy smile.

Buffy couldn’t have denied him anything. She straddled one of his strong thighs and licked her way up his hard-on, but then paused. There was pink glitter in his pubic hair. “Okay, we really need to get you into the shower. I don’t think I’m equipped to deal with sparkly vampires.”

Demon whined in the back of his throat and his cock jerked, the head thumping her right on the end of her nose. She looked up at him and the comic mix of laughter and fear on his face defused whatever indignation she’d been working on. “As long as you don’t do it again. And shower?” Demon reached out and poked William.

“He says after you’re done,” William slurred, then turned so his back was towards her and Demon. She wasn’t even sure he’d really woken up.

“Okay, but only because you made me one of the best valentines ever.”

Demon growled.

“It’s tied with William’s for best, doofus. Now are you going to keep arguing or let me get to work?”

Demon immediately lay back down and patted her on the head.

That’s what she’d thought.

She sucked his cock into her mouth, satisfied with Demon’s throaty moan. Actually, she was all kinds of satisfied, both body and heart. She knew she was lucky to love and be loved like this. She sent a silent thanks to Cupid and an apology for taking so long to get it right.

The flickering light caught the glitter in Demon’s pubic hair again and she realized if it was there...her pussy hair was probably sparkling too. She had sexually transmitted glitter. Demon was lucky she loved him. She glanced up at his blissed-out expression. Okay, a lot. She loved him a lot, glitteryness and all.


	13. Danny Boy

Danny Boy

A/N: I wrote this for a St. Patty's Day Challenge in 2016. It's another one I'm not overly fond of, but I'm putting it here for completeness. Rated T. I think I must have been reading some meta about Angel and Spike's accents at the time? It drives me buggy when people try to phonetically spell them out and I think I was making fun of that and DB's TERRIBLE attempts at sounding Irish. 

**** 

If my true love she were gone

               -Irish traditional, “Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go”

              

_March 17, 2004_

As soon as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Spike could hear the singing. The terrible, cat-yowling, ear-shattering singing. It was good to know some things never changed. Harmony didn’t even look up as he passed her desk, she had her headphones on and was nodding along with the music. Gunn was standing outside of Angel’s office. His face melted into a relieved smile when he saw Spike walking towards him.

“I’m glad to see you!” Gunn shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He’s been at it for a couple of hours now. I’m at a loss. Wesley’s with Fred and Lorne bugged out the first time Angel belted out the chorus to ‘Molly Malone’. The poor guy looked greener than normal, if that’s possible.” 

Spike waved a hand. “Peaches gets like this nearly every St. Paddy’s Day. I’ll go raise a cup or two with him, see if I can’t help his spirits.” He patted the pocket of his duster. “I even got a present from Buffy in here. She sent it to the old hotel address.”

Gunn nodded, relieved. “That should cheer him up.”

“I’m hoping so, the poor sot. He’s not going to be of much use to you for the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow as well what with the hangover he’s going to be nursing. You haven’t heard him sing ‘Danny Boy’ yet, have you? That usually means he’s about to pass out.”

Gunn shook his head before leaning in close to Spike. “What’s with the accent?”

“Started on that already, has he?” Spike chuckled. “You do know ol’ Liam here is Irish?”

“Liam? Angel’s name is Liam and he’s Irish?” Gunn’s eyebrows looked like they were trying to escape off the top of his head.

Spike smirked. “I swear on a stack of bibles that I’m telling you the truth. Problem is he left Ireland ages ago and lost his accent some time while he was swilling rat’s blood in the alleys of New York. Now when he tries he sounds like the Lucky Charms Leprechaun. I just let him and have a good laugh about it later.”

“Well, good luck in there, man. You’re going to need it.” Gunn nodded once to the vampire before escaping as fast as he could towards the elevators.

Spike pressed his ear up against the door and tried to guess what song Angel was currently mangling. After a minute he was seventy-five percent sure it was: ‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.’  Without bothering to knock he pushed open the door and sauntered into the room.  Angel had his hand around a bottle and his head thrown back. Spike slammed the door behind him to get his Grandsire’s attention.

Angel snapped his face towards Spike, immediately looking like he regretted the sudden movement. “Willy, me boy, top o’ the morning to ye!” He stumbled out of the chair behind his desk and haltingly made his way over to Spike. Angel pushed the mostly full bottle into Spike’s hands before wrapping him in a bear hug. “It’s so good o’ye to come see ye ol’ Grandda!” Spike cringed, as much from the terrible accent as the hug. Angel always was an affectionate drunk.   

“Well, I couldn’t very well leave you drinking…” Spike held up the bottle and goggled at the label. “The very good stuff on your own, could I?” Angel was more leaning on him for support now than out of affection. Gently, Spike extracted himself and maneuvered the larger man to one of the couches. Once Angel was situated Spike sprawled next to him. There were a couple of unused glasses on the coffee table. Spike filled one and handed it to Angel. The sooner they got to ‘Danny Boy’ the sooner Spike could get out of there. “A toast to, uh, who are we toasting?” the blond asked.

“The only lassie that matters!”

“Right, to Buffy!” He clinked the neck of the bottle to Angel’s glass and they both drank.

It really was the good stuff. Spike followed up his first drink with much longer pull at the bottle.

Angel pawed at his arm. “Willy, lad, do you miss her?”

“Of course I do. Every sodding minute I’m not with her is hell on earth.”

Polishing off the rest of his glass, Angel thunked it back on the table. He stayed leaning over with his hands braced on the wood. Spike was wondering if he needed to help him sit up when Angel’s shoulders started shaking. He was crying.  Spike leaned over and awkwardly patted him on the back. “I miss her so much,” Angel sobbed.

“I know, I know.” Spike refilled Angel’s glass and pushed it across the table towards him. His Grandsire picked it up but then turned towards Spike, eyes wide. Spike repressed a sigh. At this rate he was going to be stuck here for ages.

“Ye do ken, ye do! Yer the only one that does!” Angel sat up and set his glass down while his sad brown eyes misted over with tears. He clasped Spike’s hand tightly between his own. “But we’re good men, laddie, good men. We let her go so she can live her life in the light. It does no’ matter how much we hurt, nor how many tears we shed, we give her the life she deserves.” Angel leaned forward so his forehead was resting on Spike’s shoulder. The blond looked heavenward. What had he done to deserve this?

“You could call her,” Spike suggested for what felt like the millionth time. Whenever Buffy came up in conversation he would point out that she was just on the other end of the telephone, hoping Angel would eventually get the hint.

“Och, ye ken I cannot. We cannot. She’s free of the dark and we’d only drag her back down into it.” Angel reached over and snagged his drink and downed the contents in one go. He handed the empty glass to Spike.

“Right.” Spike rolled his eyes.

Angel threw himself backwards to lie sprawled on the couch.  With a hiccup he started in on ‘Will Ye Go Lassie, Go,’ singing loud enough to wake the dead. Spike looked around nervously. That wasn’t entirely an idle threat at Wolfram & Hart. And, damn it, it still wasn’t ‘Danny Boy’. After the first verse Angel kicked him in the knee so he’d join in on the chorus. Spike was rather proud of his singing voice and soon found himself belting out the lyrics in an attempt to drown out Angel’s drunken warbling.

When the song was over Spike poured Angel another round and the already inebriated vampire managed to pull himself upright enough to take the glass.

“Shpake, I mean Smate… uh, laddie…” Angel trailed off for a minute as he pondered the dark amber liquid in his glass. Spike leaned forward, trying to will the liquor down the other vampire’s throat. With a sigh Angel tossed the whole thing back in one long swallow. His eyes closed for a minute and Spike thought he might have fallen asleep, but no such luck. Angel’s eyes cracked back open to dazedly fix on Spike’s.

“Willy, can we talk about the Schlayer… um, Buffy?”

“Don’t see why not. Wait– here, this came for you.” Spike patted down his pockets before pulling a bright green shirt out. He held it up for Angel to see. A big four-leaf clover was printed on the front along with the neon orange words: ‘Kiss Me, I’m Irish!’  “I was thinking about keeping it for myself but she really sent it to you.”

Angel narrowed his eyes. “I ken no one that’d send me the likes o’ that!”

“It’s from Buffy. Smells like her.” 

Angel reached over and jerked the shirt out of Spike’s hands. He draped it over his face, taking deep breaths of the Slayer’s heady scent. Spike settled back and took a swig out of the nearly empty whisky bottle. A smile played about his lips for a second before he managed to school his features back into one of commiserated woe. 

Scrambling to his feet and swaying perilously far from side to side, Angel managed to rip his coat and dress-shirt off and pull the green one over his head. He looked down at it, smiling. “I can smell her, Willy. Like a warm summer’s day, it is.” Angel closed his eyes and nearly fell, barely catching himself in time on the edge of the couch. He sank down to sit on the floor, staring at the shirt again.

Spike was relaxing back into the couch and rather enjoying the warm buzz he had going from the whiskey when a sharp gasp made him look over at his Grandsire.

Angel was holding up something pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s a strand of her blessed hair.” His hand shook and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. “I love her so,” he cried.

“Not to sound like a stuck record, mate, but just pick up the bleeding phone and tell her.” Spike polished off the last mouthful of whiskey in the bottle and stood up to hunt for more.

“She’ll just tell me she’s not cookies again!” Angel wailed. He carefully laid the strand of hair on the table before hiding his face in his hands. He wept noisily. Spike nabbed a new bottle of even better stuff from Angel’s not-so-secret hiding spot and went to sit on the floor, facing the crying vampire. Pouring his Grandsire a glass, he patted Angel on the knee.

“You don’t know that. Chit has a soft spot for you. Here, drink this.”

Angel accepted the glass, wiping his cheeks with the back of one hand. “What do you like best about the lass?”

Spike snorted. “Besides the obvious?”

“What’s the obvious?”

“Bloody hell, Angel. Her tight, warm…y’know.”

“Oh. Hey, don’t ye talk about her that way.” Angel pointed a finger more or less in Spike’s direction.

“And don’t you get on your high horse. You liked it well enough the one time you were in there.” Spike grimaced at the bottle he was holding and took a long pull of the liquor. Thinking about Angel doing anything with his girl was nearly more than he could stand. Beyond that, Peaches had put scars so deep into her psyche that she’d never be completely free of him. Spike’s demon howled for blood. He spared a moment to fantasize about breaking the bottle and carving out the pound of flesh that Angel owed the Slayer. It was only with a concerted effort that he set the whiskey down and tipped his head back so he was looking at the ceiling. “Fine. We’ll play it your way. I love her laugh.”

“I…really? Her laugh?”

Spike sighed and dropped his gaze back to Angel. His Grandsire looked positively puzzled. “Yes, you berk, her musical, sweet, cute-as-can-bloody-be laugh. I can never get enough of it. Christ, she has had so few reasons to laugh in her life. I wish I’d done more to make her happy those last couple of years but I was too wrapped up in my own shite. I should have been making the girl giggle every time I turned around.” Spike crossed his arms over his chest.  “Now drink that instead of holding it.”

“I...you…” Angel seemed dumbstruck, but he did get the whisky down.

“What were you going to say? What do you like best about her?” Spike raised an eyebrow at his Grandsire.

“Erm…her bonny green eyes.”

“Yeah, those are nice. Emeralds or new mown grass or some such rot.” Spike fidgeted. All this talk was making him miss Buffy something fierce. He sighed and looked up at Angel’s drink slackened face. “I love her. All of her. Her funny nose and the way her pinky toe is shaped. How she doesn’t know her own mind half the time. That she will give up everything to protect the ones she loves.” His chest tightened. “Her golden hair and how bloody  _good_  she is.” Spike nearly jumped out of skin as Angel lunged forward and gathered him into a crushing hug. “Everything, I love everything about Buffy.”

“Oh, laddie. Me too!”

It was worth one last try. “Angel, please, call her for me, or give me her number. Please? Let her decide if she wants to have anything to do with us.”

Gently, Angel pushed Spike back to they were both sitting upright again. Picking up his glass Angel held it out and shook his head. “No laddie. No. Ye ken it’s wrong. A Slayer and a vampire, whether that vamp is ye or me, is just no’ right. You died a hero. Let it stay that way. She’ll remember ye fondly for all her days.”

Spike nodded, resigned.  He refilled Angel’s glass and clinked the neck of the bottle lightly against the rim. “To loving Buffy.” He tipped the bottle up and let the liquid warm his throat. Angel gulped the entire contents of his glass and held it out for more. With a sad smile Spike filled to the brim again.

“To doin’ the right thing.” Angel held his glass high and Spike chimed the bottle against it again.

“The right thing.” Spike echoed, swallowing another mouthful of the  _uisce beatha_ , marveling at how smoothly it went down. At least the afternoon hadn’t been a total wash.  Angel drained his glass, set it down with a thump, and leaned forward with his eyes on the ground. He stayed that way for a few minutes, the fingers drumming against his thigh the only sign he was still awake. Then his fingers stilled and Angel took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he raised his face towards the setting sun that was visible through the tinted glass of the window.

“O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…”

It was about bloody time. Spike scooted back, crossed his legs at the ankle and propped one elbow up on the cushions of the couch. He fished out a cigarette with the other hand, stuck it between his lips and lit it with a flick of his lighter. Taking a deep drag, he settled back to watch the show.

Angel actually didn’t sound half bad. The pain the soul brought Peaches slipped through and colored his voice. Spike found himself a little misty-eyed by the second verse and joined in when Angel started the song over. Near the end of the third round Spike snuffed out the butt of his cigarette. Angel was listing heavily towards the side and Spike helped his Grandsire lay down on the floor. The larger man caught his hand and Spike stayed crouched by him as he finished the last verse in a whisper.

“I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.”

Angel’s eyes closed and his body went limp. The fool had to know Buffy was never coming for him. That bridge had burned. Spike wadded up the coat Angel had discarded earlier and slipped it under the unconscious man’s head. He patted his Grandsire one more time on his bright-green clad shoulder and headed out of the office. The hangover Angel was going to have tomorrow was not to be envied.

Harmony was thankfully gone for the day. Stopping at her desk he used the phone to arrange a ride back to the hotel he was staying at. It was quite the step up from the ol’ crypt back in Sunnyhell. The whiskey was making him pleasantly loose. He started humming ‘Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go’ in the elevator and was downright singing to himself as he exited the building. On the sidewalk he ran right into the Lorne, knocking the demon off his feet.

Shaking his head, Spike couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Lorne’s wide smile as the vampire pulled him back up. Bugger, the demon had heard him singing.

“Slim! You sly devil, you. Oh, don’t be looking at me like that. Your secret’s safe with me. Now shoo and go have yourself a grand time for whatever’s left of this St. Paddy’s Day.” Lorne’s cell phone rang and he answered it while waving Spike towards the waiting limo.

Sliding into the soft black leather seat, Spike gave the driver the name of the hotel and cracked open a perfectly warmed thermos of otter blood to drink on the way. Life in L.A. certainly did have its perks.

****

He opened the door to suite, only to find it empty. Frowning Spike stepped inside, letting the door click closed behind him.

“Luv? Hello? You here?” There was no answer. Sighing, Spike toed off his boots. No telling what the girl was up to or where she was. He’d just have to wait. Shrugging off his coat he tossed it over the back of the couch. He was another step into the room when a green clad figure tackled him from the side.  They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, both struggling to get the upper hand. Finally, Buffy was straddling him while pinning his wrists beside his head.

“Hi!” she chirped.

“Good god, you scared me half to life.”

She giggled and leaned down to kiss him briefly. “So how was Angel?”

“Gloomy and brooding. He went all moon-eyed over that shirt.”

“Not enough to call me,” she pouted. That lip sticking out meant he had to kiss her again. After a moment she broke free. “I have to get something, wait here.” She stood and tightened the belt of the short, green robe she was wearing.

“I asked him three bloody times. It’s not my fault the git can’t get his head out of his self-righteous arse.” Spike’s eyes followed Buffy as she flitted about the room.

Returning to where he was lounging on the floor, she straddled him again while eyeing him critically. “You’re not wearing any green, are you?”

“What?”

The Slayer pinched him hard on the arm.

He growled. “Thanks for the reminder I’m not dreaming.” Though most of the time he felt like he was. As soon as he was no longer a ghost he’d begged Fred to find Buffy’s number. The Slayer had been on a plane the next day, but had asked him not to tell Angel. For some reason she wanted the idiot to figure out himself that calling her was the right thing to do. So Spike acted mopey all day with Angel and spent every night with Buffy. He’d tell her it wasn’t worth it, but, well, he spent every night with Buffy. Spike was starting to suspect the whole ‘he needs to call me’ routine was mostly an excuse so she didn’t have to deal with Peaches. He could respect that.  

Some nights the two of them would go out patrolling, some nights they’d order take out and watch bad TV, but mostly they spent a great deal time holding each other and whispering promises of eternal love and that they’d never, ever leave the other alone again. And shagging, there was a lot of shagging.

Buffy was rolling her eyes at him. “On St. Patrick’s Day you have to wear green or you’ll get pinched.” She shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. But here, I got you this so you’d be safe.” She’d been holding one hand behind her back and now brought it around to show him the cheap plastic bowler she was holding. There were shamrocks on it.

Spike sighed.

With a flourish she set it at a jaunty angle on his head. Leaning back, she admired her handiwork. “You look dashing,” she said, before giggling again.

It really was his favorite sound. He’d wear whatever sodding thing she pleased if it made her laugh.

Buffy folded her arms across her stomach, making the robe she was wearing pull tight across her breasts. It appeared to be a no bra day. “Erin Go Bragh,” he muttered, smirking.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” He grasped the sash of her robe and wound it around his hand once before yanking it out of its loops. The robe fell open and he raised an eyebrow at what he found or, more accurately, didn’t find. “Are ye after me lucky charms, lassie?” he teased.

“Oh God, was Angel doing his leprechaun accent?”

“I had to listen to it all afternoon, nearly drove me around the bend. But enough about him.” Spike slid the sleeves of the robe off her arms and tossed the silky material into a far corner of the room. “You’re not wearing any green now…” He pinched her, hard, on the arm, like she had him.

“Hey!” she squeaked.

“Just following the rules, Slayer. Is this better?” He pinched her rear end and she more moaned than yelped.

“Better,” she panted.

“Good, because it’s time to show you how to properly celebrate St Paddy’s Day.”  With the green hat still on his head Spikes wrapped his arms around her waist and winked. “Now, lassie, let’s see if ye can find that pot o’ gold at the end of the rainbow.”

Buffy laughed.


	14. 4 Little Fics

A/N: These are G to T rated, not betad, and are from Tumblr prompts. 

****  
1\. Thanks for the ask Nony!

S2, while Buffy and Spike are walking to her house during their truce. 

*

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Spike asked with a smirk.

Because he was totally bothering her. A lot. The stupid jerk. Who was stupid. And a jerk.

Buffy sighed. This truce was a terrible idea and the only thing that might work. She clenched her hands into fists as she glanced at the vampire walking beside her. He was staring back, a smile flitting over his lips.

“You don’t have to enjoy it so much,” she grumbled.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

She stopped and turned to face him, he did the same, not giving her an extra inch of space between them. Which annoyed her. He took up more room than he should and smelled of leather, whiskey, and cigarettes. It wasn’t right. All vampires should smell of death and blood.

“Nothing about this is fun,” she said. “It’s all terrible, and horrible, and I don’t want to be dealing with any of it.”

Spike tilted his head to the side. “Sounds like life, luv.” He raised a hand and tapped the end of her nose, smug smile in place. “It’s what you do with the horribleness that counts.”

She wanted to punch him very, very badly.

“End it.” She resumed marching towards her house.

“That’s the spirit.” Spike easily kept pace with her. “This is going to be so much fun.” He sounded gleeful. He couldn’t be happy, could he?

Ugh.

“This is what you do! Life is terrible, but you sock it right in the kisser and make your own fate.”

Buffy stumbled over her own feet as for one, brief moment, she imagined kissing Spike. Her lips pressed against his, his hands grasping her hips.

No. No.

NO.

“Shut up, Spike,” she said.

He smiled. “I’d like to see you try and make me.”

****

2\. S4. During the spell in ‘Something Blue’

*

“Shh, they’ll hear us,” Buffy said as Spike growled against her lips. He’d dragged around a corner in the dorms for a bit of a snog while the others questioned some of the girls to see if any knew where Willow had gone.

Spike’s fingers tightened on her hips. “Too bad. They know we’re together. You’re my bloody fiancée.”

Buffy sighed happily and melted against him. It was like the sun was burning in his chest. He loved her fiercely, and it just made sense. He’d been drawn to her since the first moment he’d seen her, the siren’s call of her Slayer blood singing to him, but there’d been more. Something that’d eluded him until it’d all become so clear.

Buffy was his.

And he had always been destined to be hers.

Getting married was just a way to show everyone else what they already knew.

Her lips were soft and sweet against his, and he drank down every little mewl and gasp of pleasure she gave him, but it wouldn’t be long, and he’d show her everything she’d been missing. Poor dear was starving for physical attention, and all she’d had was that lousy berk who’d made her sad.

He refused to think about the other man Buffy’d been with. That would ruin his mood completely. And there’d only been the once with that git, anyway. Spike was determined to show her exactly what her body was capable of. Frequently.

As soon as he walked her down the aisle.

Buffy whimpered against his lips as he deepened the kiss.

That was the ticket, have her be the one making noise.

“Get a room,” a girl’s voice said as she walked by.

Buffy broke the kiss, panting, as she gazed into his face.

He cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a hug, tilting his head down to whisper in her ear. “Soon.”

****

3\. S7- The Killer In Me: Buffy stays with Spike while the chip’s removed. Warning for a tiny bit of medical ick. 

*

“This will only take a second…” The military doctor was squinting at something inside Spike’s head, and Buffy had to fight down nausea.

Cool fingers intertwined with hers. “ ‘S’alright, kitten, I can’t feel a thing.”

She snorted out something like a laugh. “I’m supposed to be making you feel better.”

One side of Spike’s lips quirked up. “You are.”

She focused on his face and took several deep breaths.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Feeling green?”

“A little, but I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers gripped hers a little tighter. “Thank you.”

Her thumb ran across his knuckles. Spike’s hand. It’d hurt her in anger and caressed her in pleasure. Sometimes one right after the other, which had been majorly with the confusing.

Now he was gripping her for reassurance. That she was still there. That he was.

“Nearly got it,” the doctor muttered.

Spike looked upwards, though he wouldn’t be able to see anything past the blue drape. Buffy raised his hand and pressed a kiss to his fingers through her surgical mask. His gaze returned to hers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I will be.”

****

4\. Set sometimes post-series in a non-comics universe. 

*  
“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” Buffy said, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. She was dramatically dipped back over Spike’s arm as an instrumental version of Bette Midler’s ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ played over the speakers set up at one end of the hall they’d rented for their wedding reception.

Spike chuckled as he pulled her back upright and guided her into a turn. “No, wife, I believe you did that all on your own by picking this song for our first dance.”

Her smile widened. Since they’d said their vows a few hours ago, Spike had refused to call her anything else.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” she muttered as they swayed together.

“Remember everything from that night,” Spike said. “It was the happiest I’d been in…sodding forever.”

She tilted her head. “That’s how I felt. Happy. It was all joy. When the spell ended, I hated losing that and going back to worrying about everything.”

Spike’s hand stroked her waist. “And now?”

“It’s even better.” She felt like she was dancing on a cloud. Who’d have imagined that they’d ever get here, a tiny wedding with her friends and family in attendance and no looming apocalypse. A reception with a buffet and a local DJ. It was ridiculous and simple and perfect.

“I can’t actually feel my feet I’m so bloody happy,” Spike said. “They are still there, right?”

“I hope so.” Buffy snuggled against him and put her arms around his neck as he put his around her waist. They fit together just right.

“Never let go, husband.”

She could feel his happy hum rumble through his chest. “Never, wife.”


	15. Sandwiches

Sandwiches

A/N: More Thing of Doom E rated shenanigans. This is loosely based on a dream I had, though that took place on a train n the 1940s and Buffy was in an amazing green dress and didn't mind I was watching them get it on. My mind is odd. 

***  
The room, even with the TV on, was too quiet. When the door banged open and her boys spilled in, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief.

She was sitting on the bed, dressed only in one of Demon’s black t-shirts. William set his lunch down on the table and went to the kitchen to retrieve a glass and ice for his ginger ale.

Demon tossed himself down on the bed next to her and pushed three sandwiches and two bottles of chocolate milk into her hands. He had a Styrofoam cup with a lid and straw for his blood, making it look like he was drinking the ickiest smoothie ever.

“Really?” Buffy looked down at the wealth of food. “I asked for a chicken salad sandwich and a bottle of water.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t bring you the entire cafeteria,” William said as he sat down in a chair and neatly spread a napkin on his lap.

Selecting a single sandwich and one of the bottles of milk, she made big eyes at Demon. “Can you put the rest in the fridge for me?”

Immediately, he grabbed the extras and did as she asked before perching on the counter and slurping at his blood.

William shot him a dirty look.

Buffy tucked into her lunch and was nearly done with her sandwich by the time William had his crustless watercress and cucumber sandwich unwrapped, his soda in the glass, and his salt and vinegar potato chip bag emptied onto a napkin.

Buffy had promised herself she wouldn’t comment on what William ate, because it was his taste buds, but eww. He was seriously going to have to brush his teeth before he kissed her.

Demon set his now-empty cup on the counter and prowled over to William, who was picking out the medium sized potato chips to eat first. Demon tilted his head to the side and growled.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” William said, not looking up.

Demon growled again and punctuated it by stabbing a claw in her direction. Buffy gulped down the rest of her milk and set the bottle on the nightstand. She was ready to go when they were.

“Just give me a minute to eat my lunch,” William muttered. He pulled that morning’s newspaper towards him and skimmed his eyes over the headlines on the front page.

Buffy’s eyes flicked back to Demon. Who was now naked. How the heck did he do that?

Shrugging, Demon prowled up the bed until he could push her flat. His hands snagged the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head.

Buffy wrapped an arm around his neck, her insides already turning molten. She bit her lip. “Shouldn’t we wait for-“

She was cut off as Demon’s mouth claimed hers.

William’s loss, she decided. If he wanted to sit there chewing watercress slowly instead of getting busy, well, phewy on him. He could watch.

The sinful tongue in her mouth soon had her thinking of nothing else.

Demon’s hand was on her breast. He teased the nipple with his cool fingers, making flashes of pure lust run in bolts from the sensitive tip down to her clit. She moaned and pushed her hips up against him. The hard line of Demon’s arousal was rubbing against her thigh.

Her hand slid over the planes of his back, delighting at the feel of the muscles as they flexed under her palm. Her pussy clenched tight. Buffy nearly giggled at herself. She was kind of easy. A few minutes of a naked vampire wiggling on top of her and she was more than ready to go.

Demon’s hungry mouth, that still tasted very faintly of the blood he’d been drinking, continued to devour hers. She tried to be careful of his fangs, but ended up nicking her tongue. Demon whimpered and sucked at the wound, his body stilling as he focused on her taste.

Buffy nails dug into his skin as she arched up against him. She was panting and her sex was wet with desire.

Demon released her mouth and sat upright. Roughly, he flipped her over onto her hands and knees. She braced herself, but Demon hesitated. His arms wrapped around her and he turned them both so they were facing William, who was still sitting at the table.

Eating his stupid sandwich and looking at the paper.

Demon dropped her back to her hands and knees. With a snarl he slammed his cock into her. Buffy gasped and she saw William’s shoulder twitch. So, he was aware of what they were doing and was ignoring them? Buffy’s eyes narrowed.

Uh-uh, mister.

Demon set a wild pace but she met his thrusts, moaning and mewling as enthusiastically as a porn star. The bed was shuddering beneath them and the headboard was rapping against the wall, but William still didn’t turn around.

Her vision got hazy as tension coiled in her belly and thighs. The slap of Demon’s sack against her sex every time he plunged inside her was almost enough. Buffy brought one hand between her legs and rubbed frantically at her clit. She peaked and keened her pleasure.

And—damn it—William just hunched his shoulders. He picked up his second triangle of crustless sandwich and took a bite. Buffy had always thought Spike’s tendency to dig in his heels was something related to his demon. She knew better now. William had a stubborn streak a mile wide.

Demon gave a snort of what sounded like a great deal of frustration. His pace slowed and he hooked an arm around her middle, pulling her upright and flush against him. Buffy raised both her arms and clasped her hands behind Demon’s head as he tenderly kissed her neck. His free hand landed on her inner thigh and urged her leg to turn further to the side.

Demon continued pumping his hips. His cock was pushing at the front wall of her pussy, creating enough sensation for her to get lost in it.

Buffy couldn’t stand seeing her other lover’s back anymore. She needed him. “William,” she pleaded softly.

William dropped his sandwich and finally turned to face the bed. His eyes went wide and he nearly choked on the last bite of watercress and cucumber he’d taken. After a few deep breaths William’s gaze focused downward to where she and Demon were joined. Pure lust lit up his face. 

William stood and took a step towards the bed.

“Clothes,” she breathed. Demon growled his approval as William fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He couldn’t seem to get them undone so instead he undid his belt and pushed his khaki’s and boxers off. His cock jutted out from between the front tails of his white dress shirt. Buffy gasped as Demon surged up harder and deeper insider her. William’s shaft jerked in response and he redoubled his efforts to unbutton his shirt. But they remained uncooperative, only a few coming undone, and finally William gave in and pulled the shirt off over his head, leaving his hair standing up in all directions and his glasses askew.

Past caring, William crawled onto the bed and immediately found her clit with his tongue.

“Yes, that,” she managed to say. One of her hands dropped to tangle in William’s curls and hold his mouth against her. Buffy was strung tighter than a bow string. William’s fingers ghosted along the lips of her pussy. He caressed her outer lips and where Demon’s shaft was sliding in and out of her.

The tension in her body snapped and she came again, her hips undulating. Demon’s cock slamming hard against the opening to her womb while William’s warm, wet tongue lashed her clit drove her pleasure to a high pinnacle from which she seemed to fall for an eternity. The orgasm left her no voice as she rode it out.

When she’d somewhat returned to reality, William dropped his hand down to cup Demon’s sack. Demon grunted and he lost his rhythm. Buffy dug her nails into the back of Demon’s head, squeezing his cock tightly with her inner muscles as he jaggedly thrust into her.

William’s tongue was still lapping her clit and she had a third, gentler orgasm that made her whole body glow with warmth. Holy heck, what her boys could do to her.

Demon grunted loudly and shoved his cock one more time deep inside her as he came. His shaft jerked as he shot his load into her. William’s tongue left her clit to clean off what was leaking out of her from around Demon’s now softening member.

Making rumbling, happy noises, Demon nuzzled against the back of her neck.

William rose up on his knees, his hands skimming over her hips before wrapping around her waist. Demon let go of her and she sagged against William’s chest, whimpering as Demon’s cock slid out of her body.

She turned to watch Demon collapse back against the bed with one hand behind his head, then William was pulling her into a kiss. Thankfully, he tasted of her and Demon and not of watercress and vinegar.

The tug of William’s hands, the urgency of his tongue, and the press of his erection against her belly, flipped her body from sated into raring to go again in a few seconds flat.

Dang, she really was easy. At least with her guys, she amended. It wasn’t like it was just anybody. If she really wanted to admit the truth, Spike had been able to turn her on like a light switch since the first time she saw him.

It used to annoy the ever loving crud out of her. Now it just made things…easy. She giggled. Her mind wasn’t really firing on all cylinders. She felt delightfully scrambled.

William lay down and tugged her so she was straddling him. Her mouth returned to his as she ground herself against his hard-on. 

Cool fingers trailed down her spine. Demon had scooted over and was cuddled up against them. William broke their kiss and turned his head so that his lips met Demon’s.

Buffy groaned and leaned back. William’s fingers bit into her hips. Demon’s hand slid between her legs and fisted William’s cock, positioning it so she could sink down onto it. She impaled herself, taking all of his shaft inside her in one motion. Demon patted her leg.

With a groan William twisted and bucked up into her. Buffy’s hands rested on his chest as she began to ride him. His hands on her hips pulled her into a rapid rhythm. She looked down, mesmerized by the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her channel.

Her attention snapped back to Demon as his mouth left William’s and kissed along the side of his neck until he was hovering over where William’s pulse was visibly beating in his neck. Buffy’s hips stilled as she watched her boys. Demon’s arm wrapped around William’s chest. There was a pause and then Demon laid his cheek on William’s shoulder with a soft sound, seeming resigned.

William thrust his hips slowly as he locked eyes with Demon. They stared, unblinking, for a few moments and then Buffy forgot to breathe as William turned his head and gradually exposed his throat to Demon.

Bowing his head, Demon’s tongue snaked across William’s skin. Both men moaned.

Gentle as he could, Demon bared his fangs and slid them into William’s neck.

There was another pause, and then Demon sucked at the wound and swallowed. A trickle of blood leaked out and trailed down William’s pale skin. She stared, fascinated.

William’s hand flew to Demon’s head, anchoring it against his neck at the same time that his pelvis began to churn wildly beneath her. Buffy had to tighten her grip to keep from being bucked off. William was nearly sobbing with the pleasure. His cock was impossibly hard inside her and Buffy rode him hell bent for leather. Sweat shone on both of them.

Demon was keening loudly and was rolling his renewed erection against her leg. Buffy licked her hand and grabbed Demon’s shaft, jerking him to the pace William was demanding of her.

Buffy’s legs shook and she was coming again, her voice hoarse as she groaned. Her hand convulsed and squeezed Demon tightly, making him shudder.

The muscles of Demon’s throat were standing out in high relief as he struggled to not completely lose control. He was barely sucking at his counterpart’s neck, doing his best not to hurt him even as William was thrashing in a nearly incoherent frenzy.

William’s stomach muscles tightened and Buffy clamped her pussy firmly around his shaft.

“Oh god,” William moaned. “Oh god, yes, love you.” The last was a shout as he came. His hips arced completely up off the bed with the force of his orgasm, lifting Buffy up and making her cry out as she hung on to him. As William collapsed back to the bed, Demon’s body stiffened. He pumped erratically into her fist and came with a low wail around where his fangs were still planted in William’s neck. Demon’s cock spasmed and semen spurted onto her hand and William’s side.

Buffy’s other hand went between her legs and her fingers coaxed her body into one more orgasm. She panted and ground herself against William as she rode out the waves before sagging forward onto his chest.

Dazedly, William wrapped an arm around her. Demon was holding the sheet against the fang marks on William’s neck, a worried look on his face.

“You okay?” she asked William.

“Very okay,” he slurred and giggled. Buffy turned her head to listen and found his heart beating strong and steady, if a little rapidly, under his breast bone.

“I think he’ll be fine,” she told Demon with a smile.

“All fine,” William agreed. “That was all…all fine.” He giggled again.

Buffy slid off William and helped him roll on his side so that both Demon and she could snuggle tight against him.

“I bet you’ve been dying to do that,” William said to Demon.

Demon nodded and kissed the top of his counterpart’s head.

“I’ve bit my own wrist before,” William confided and Demon looked embarrassed. “Drank.” Demon looked even more ashamed. “But it just wasn’t the same. Blood’s not human anymore, really. So it was sort of like that, but not, y’know? Do it sometimes, when I get upset or have a bad day.” Demon appeared now like he was wishing a hole would open up in the floor and swallow him. 

Buffy patted Demon’s shoulder. She guessed vampires weren’t supposed to admit to bite-masturbation and Demon’s mortification was adorable. She supposed that getting bit by one’s own demon, or the demon being able to bite its human host, was something buried deep down in the dark recesses of vampire psychology. Huh.

“But this was so much better,” William continued blithely on. “I love you so much, Demon. I’m so…happy right now.” William twisted so he could see Buffy. “And I’m so happy you’re here, and we could share this and…I love you, too. With all my h-heart.” William stuttered to a halt as emotion overcame him.

Demon settled one of William’s hands over the center of his chest and cooed softly at his human half. Buffy pressed herself firmly against William’s back. “I love you, Spike,” she whispered.

After a second there was a soft sigh as William relaxed. He had fallen asleep.

Buffy met Demon’s eyes and they shared a moment of complete understanding. They both loved the man that was sandwiched between them and would do anything to protect him. No matter how many weird lunch choices they had to put up with. Even watercress and cucumber.


	16. Blue

Blue

A/N: More ToD porn. This one was because I promised Gort I'd get back to the idea from the end of Cursed at some point. 

****

Demon whined.

His mate and human weren’t supposed to be gone very long, just a quick jaunt to grab drinks and a new book for William, but it already felt like they’d been gone forever. Demon had been left behind because he hadn’t wanted to get dressed, but the ache of being alone was making even pants seem worth it.

Listlessly, he wondered around their room.

He supposed he could turn on the telly, but without sharing his mind with his human, it was hard to keep track of the stories and their meaning. He paused beside the room’s dresser. The top drawer was pulled open and he could see an organized heap of Buffy’s knickers. They were all clean and quite a few were brand new and had never been worn, but he could easily imagine her in any of them.

Demon eyed the pile. It was even better when she didn’t wear any, but when he’d tried to keep her from slipping a pair on and making it that much more difficult to get to her pussy, his mate had just rolled her eyes. William insisted on wearing underthings as well. Perhaps it was some ingrained human trait.

Pulling the drawer further open, he used a claw to sort through the bits of fabric. There were lots of lacy ones in all colors. He brushed his fingers over a pair that was blood red and more string than lace. His eyes drifted almost closed as he envisioned his mate wearing them, the almost nothing bit of fabric highlighting the curves of her hips and ass. It’d almost look like blood.

The thought of licking blood off his mate’s curves led to another, even more delicious thought. His mate was human and once a month she bled. It wasn’t the same as blood from a cut, but it was still blood, still hers, and it came from one of his favorite parts of her body.

His toes curled as he imagined her spread out on the bed before him and his tongue lapping at her pussy while the scent of her blood and arousal perfumed the air. He knew the unique scent of her during her period, he remembered it from the time before the amulet, even though he’d never been allowed to touch her when she was bleeding.

Demon sucked in a ragged breath and dropped the red knickers back into the drawer with a sad sound. He hated the time before, when his mate…hadn’t wanted to be his mate. Hadn’t wanted him at all, but he had needed her so badly. He whimpered, remembering her harsh words and fists. Sometimes those had been better than nothing at all, better than silence.

The empty room was suddenly too big and quiet. Blindly, he grabbed a pair of his mate’s panties from the drawer and dropped to hands and knees, curling up against the wall after crawling under the room’s table.

The fabric in his hands was bright blue silk. Desperate to feel close to his mate, he put his feet through the openings and slid them up his legs. In the cramped space it was difficult to heft his hips and get them all the way up, but he managed, sliding the bit of silk all the way on. Unlike the red pair, this one nearly completely covered his backside. It had little elastic strips over each hip, decorated with bows, and a triangle of fabric in front. It wasn’t really enough to cover his prick or balls, but he made the best of it he could, then brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. Hopefully his human and his mate would be back soon.

After what felt like forever, though it couldn’t have been that long, the door opened and he was no longer alone.

His mate was giggling at something his human had said and William was drinking a bottle of water. Both of them stopped and frowned, setting the things in their hands down on the counter. A few seconds later, Buffy crouched down in front of him, even as his human opened the bathroom door, calling for Demon.

“He’s here,” Buffy said. “I don’t think we should have left him alone.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well,” Demon’s mate said as his human knelt beside her. “He’s cowering under the table and wearing my panties.”

“That’s…unusual.”

“We were gone for like twenty minutes.” Buffy sounded very confused and Demon wished he could explain to her how he felt, all mixed up inside about the before time.

His human held out a hand. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, we’re here.”

Demon let himself be pulled out of his hiding spot and into his human’s arms. Usually it was the other way around, William needing care, but Demon let his human fuss over him. William had been there, in the before time, and he would understand. William leaned his forehead against Demon’s and looked into his eyes, asking him what was wrong. Demon did his best to explain and William’s face became pained. His hands gentle cradled Demon’s head and William’s fingers petted his cheeks.

“Oh, no. None of that,” William whispered. “Don’t get lost back then. Buffy’s here, she’s not leaving. She loves us.”

Demon nodded, slowly relaxing as the words sank in. Yes, of course. Buffy was his mate now, his to hold and treasure.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, voice anxious.

“Demon somehow got himself all turned around in his head and was remembering all the, erm, not good times, so to speak.”

His mate gave a hurt cry and the scent of her tears washed over Demon.

Pain erupted in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make her weep. Rougher than he meant to, he pushed his human out of the way and picked up Buffy, whose arms went around his neck as she peppered his face with kisses. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Demon sat on the edge of the bed and held her tight. He pressed her hand to his chest, hoping she could feel all the love he had for her. William sat beside them, laying his head on Demon’s shoulder and stroked Buffy’s hair. His mate’s tears dried up and she nuzzled against his jaw. Demon glanced at William, whose eyes were clearly telling Demon to kiss the girl.

Ever mindful of his fangs, Demon pressed his lips to Buffy’s. She moaned and hungrily attacked his mouth, wiggling until she was straddling his lap. William stood and tugged Buffy’s shirt off over her head.

Tits!

Demon eagerly sucked one nipple into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it. His hands were on her ass, gripping her tightly. She’d tilted her head back and William, whose glasses had disappeared, was kissing her deeply. Demon’s already aching prick twitched at the sight. How he loved watching his human and mate together. It was a dream, her accepting and wanting William, and it was comforting. His mate didn’t want just a mindless fuck or a handy bit of fighting, not if she was holding onto William just as much as she was Demon. And not that he particularly had anything against either of those, but Demon was greedy. He’d tasted her love and he was never doing without again.

Buffy broke away from William’s mouth, panting, and leaned back, pulling her nipple from Demon’s lips. He grunted and tried to capture the other, but she put a hand on his chest. “I still haven’t figured out why you’re wearing my panties.”

Demon poked William’s arm. “It’s because he missed you,” William said. Demon wiggled his hips. “And,” William added with a sigh. “Because they feel good.” William eyed him. “Seriously? You won’t wear a pair of boxers, but give you a pair of lady’s frilly knickers and you’re fine?”

Demon shrugged. It wasn’t his fault they were all silky.

Buffy was biting her lip and looking down.

Demon followed her gaze. The blue fabric wasn’t doing a bloody thing to cover his erection, though the elastic was holding it up against his belly. Buffy’s fingers trailed down his chest. She traced where one string passed over his hip while William’s hands cupped and kneaded her breasts. The scent of Buffy’s arousal, which had already been strong, redoubled as she cradled Demon’s balls in her hot hand.

His eyes tried to roll up into his head. The silk, sliding between her palm and his sac, was decadent. It felt blasted amazing.

Demon growled softly and caught William’s eye.

“Not on your life,” his counterpart grumbled. “I don’t care how it feels.”

Buffy giggled and twisted to bat her eyes at William.

“No.”

Demon distracted his mate by reaching under her skirt and rubbing a finger over her own very sodden underwear. His toes curled. He wanted her pussy, sweet and tart, on his tongue.  

Sliding Buffy off of him, Demon scooted back until he was lying flat on the bed. He watched as William hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Buffy’s skirt and pulled it and her knickers off. Buffy turned and kissed William again and he groaned as she caressed his hard-on through his pants. Fingers clumsy, William undid the buttons of his shirt and Buffy helped him push it off.

Demon wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking himself as William and Buffy groped each other. A happy sigh left Demon’s lips. If he didn’t want her pussy in his face so badly he’d be content to wank and watch them together, but he was getting desperate, so he stuck out a foot and poked his mate in the thigh. She turned, but it was William that Demon looked at, who blushed a little as he put his hands on Buffy’s hips.

William bent down to Buffy’s ear: “He wants you to ride his face.”

His mate flushed crimson. “Um–“ She took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay.”

Demon smirked. Crawling onto the bed, Buffy paused to graze his mouth with hers, but he wasn’t about to let her stall. He started to move her how he wanted, but when she figured out she’d be facing his feet, she balked.

“Wait, I’m not sure…”

Demon blew out an exasperated breath. She was right beside his head. Pussy, now.

“He doesn’t need to breathe and if you’re facing the other way you won’t be able to see what I’m doing.” There was the sound of William lowering the zipper of his pants.

“What you’re doing?” Buffy squeaked.

The bed dipped as William climbed on and scooted so his mouth was over Demon’s prick. He could feel William’s warm breath.

Buffy made a garbled noise and quickly positioned herself with a knee on either side of Demon’s head and her hands on his chest.

Finally.

Demon moaned his bliss as he bathed her pussy with his tongue. His mate’s taste was exquisite.

He moaned louder a few seconds later when his human’s hot, wet mouth engulfed his cock. It was accompanied by a rush of cream from Buffy and Demon smashed his face against her and sent his tongue deep inside to get every drop.

Buffy was mewling and rocking her hips, between that and the perfect suction on his cock–William knew just what he liked–Demon was in heaven. He curled his arms around her thighs so he could reach her clit, rubbing it in hard little circle with a finger while his other hand stroked her thigh.

The uninhibited, happy, lusty noises she made filled him with joy. His mate. His wonderful mate.

Her thighs quivered and she came, her fingernails digging into his chest in the most wonderful way. He didn’t stop and she screamed as a second orgasm followed quickly behind the first. She bucked hard enough that the tip of one of Demon’s fangs grazed her labia. He froze, waiting for her to start yelling at him, only she moaned and rocked her hips instead.

“Demon,” she pleaded, her voice raw.

It was a tiny cut and only a few drops of blood, but to him it was an unimaginable bounty. He growled and ground his face against her pussy, eagerly sucking and licking away all traces of her blood. Even that little taste sent fire raging through his system. Whimpering, he thrust up into William’s mouth, who responded by sucking harder.

Buffy came again, her cries beautiful.

William’s hand cupped Demon’s sac through the silk of the panties and it all became too much. He peaked with a roar, fireworks exploding behind his eyes as he spurted his load into his human’s mouth. Bliss was a tidal wave as it surged outward from his groin, leaving him spent and languid in its wake.

Gently, Demon guided Buffy to her hands and knees beside him. She looked dazed, which made him feel more than a little proud. He had her keep her legs together as William positioned himself behind her. She was so wet that William was able to push inside her with little effort, even with her thighs pressed against each other.  

“Oh god,” William moaned, his hands fluttering where they rested on Buffy’s hips. Demon stretched out beside his mate and human as William thrust into her. His human’s face was full of unadulterated ecstasy. Demon put a finger on Buffy’s cheek so she turned her face towards him and he could kiss her other lips while William made love to her.

Demon played with her breasts, tweaking the nipples until he felt her body reaching for another release, then he wiggled a finger between her clenched thighs and worked her clit until she came a fourth and a fifth time, drinking down her sounds of pleasure.

William was grunting, his face red, as his hips sped up. “Oh god!” He barked loudly as his orgasm overtook him. He looked almost pained as he thrust a last few times. Gasping, he pulled out of Buffy and collapsed on the other side of her, face first. Buffy flopped down on her back, her kiss swollen lips turned up in a smile.

Purring contentedly, Demon reached over and patted William’s behind. He’d done a good job.

William grumbled something unintelligible, but then he rolled on his side enough to put a hand on the center of Buffy’s chest with the fingers lifted just slightly in invitation. Demon laced his fingers with his human’s and Buffy placed both her hand over theirs.

“I know I’m not, and I certainly wasn’t, perfect–“

Demon interrupted with an alarmed huff.

“It’s okay,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’m not perfect, but I’m trying. And I’m so happy now. Do you think we can stay that way?”

“I do,” William said quietly. “I want you to be happy, more than anything, and if that involves me and Demon, then we are happier than you can imagine.”

“I don’t know, I can imagine an awful lot.”

Demon pursed his lips. She must mean chocolate. Untangling his hand, he rolled over, even though Buffy squawked in protest, and rummaged through the drawer of the little table beside the bed. He found a silver wrapped, drop-shaped chocolate and tore the foil off before settling down on his side next to Buffy again.

He set the chocolate on her tongue and was pleased at her hum of enjoyment. While she finished her treat, he straightened out the kickers he had on and nuzzled her sunshine colored hair. Just smelling it made him feel warmer. Buffy turned towards him and William spooned against her back.

“Thank you, Demon,” she said, smiling. “That was nice.”

Demon chirped a welcome, heart full at being able to do something for her. Her hand wandered over his hip to pet his behind through the blue silk.

“These make me happy too. Not something that I thought would turn me on, but I guess you really do look good in anything,” she blushed at her confession.

He leered at her, delighted with her pink cheeks.

“I guess at least they’re underwear?” William said with a resigned sigh.

“Is there a problem?” Buffy asked, looking over her shoulder at William.

He looked away and Demon clasped his human’s shoulder and cooed. It was okay to tell their mate.

“It’s just…you like them, he wears them…eventually I’ll be wearing them too when I have a little less say in how we dress, and…and…” William swallowed, hard. “I was always being told, since I can remember, that I was a sissy, or boys don’t cry, or…I’m already doing stuff that…”

Buffy blinked, but Demon twittered and stroked his human’s arm. He had his human’s memories. The things the lads at school had said were much crueler than what he’d just relayed to Buffy. Demon would happily gut every last one of them if he could.

“Um, William…who exactly are you worried about questioning you? Me? Who just got off twice with your cock in me?”

William furrowed his brow.

“There’s only me and you. And…and…fuck everyone else. And what they think.”

“Yeah.” William hugged her tightly. “Yeah.” Demon ran a claw over her face. There was his girl. Even he knew what it took for her to say that. “Don’t care what anyone thinks, I just want you.”

“And I want you, and if you wearing a pair of silk panties gets us hot, that’s nobody’s business but our own.”  

William eyed Demon. “Do they really feel nice?”

Buffy’s hand squeezed Demon’s ass and he wiggled in enjoyment.

William sighed, defeated. “Fine.”

Buffy grinned. “I have this blood-red lace pair you’d look amazing in.”

Demon chirped an agreement. His mate was right, his human would look brilliant in those.

William put an elbow over his eyes and groaned.

“It’d make me happy,” Buffy singsonged.

Demon chuckled. She’d won.


	17. Early Morning

Early Morning

A/N: ToD related as well, but set after the end of the story. A little smut but mostly domestic fluff. 

****

“Daddy?”

“Uh,” Spike grunted in reply. It was sodding early in the morning.

Warm little fingers pried his eye open. “Daddy?”

“What’s wrong, Toddy?” Spike blinked and focused enough to figure out that his four-year-old son was standing naked beside the bed, clutching the teddy his grandpa Giles had given him, and looking both terrified and ashamed.

Buffy was still fast asleep. She was turned on her side away from Spike, but had one of her legs tangled with his.

“I peed the bed,” Tod said, eyes wide and tearful.

Ah, that explained the nakedness. Probably. Toddy tended to shed clothes at the best of times. Buffy had given up keeping pants on him when they were home alone and only insisted when there was company over.

Spike completely understood. The last time Giles had been in town he’d taken Tod for an afternoon at the Aquarium, leaving Buffy and Spike at home alone. The rental car had barely pulled away from the curb before Spike had slammed the door shut and stripped down. Buffy had come back from grabbing a soda in the kitchen and rolled her eyes at him. Though he didn’t know why, since ten minutes later she’d been naked too and screaming the rafters down.

Though usually, like tonight, Spike wore sweatpants to sleep in because of unexpected visits from Tod. Spike untangled himself from Buffy and sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry,” Tod said, hugging his bear tighter.

Spike patted the boy’s head. “It’s okay, happens to the best of us.”

Tod’s eyes darted to his mother. “Mommy pees the bed?” he whispered.

Spike chuckled. “You’ll grow out of it. When I was a nipper your age I know I used to, and I’m sure your mum did too. So no worries, you won’t be doing it forever. Now, did Paddington get wet?”

Tod shook his head and held his teddy out for inspection. The bear was fine and Spike gave it back to the boy before herding him into the bathroom for a quick wipe with a warm rag. In Toddy’s bedroom, Spike found that the bed clothes had already been pulled off onto the floor. The plastic cover on the mattress looked intact, and Spike quickly made the bed with clean sheets and put the wet ones out in the hallway.

When he was done, he held up the corner of the blankets and didn’t even say anything when Tod climbed in without any pajamas on. It wasn’t worth the fight. And Spike was more than a little convinced that while it had to have been his human side, as William, that had supplied Tod’s DNA, somehow or other a little bit of Demon had shown up in the boy as well. Or a lot, if you asked Buffy.

“Daddy,” Tod said with a yawn. “Tell me a story.”

Spike wanted to say he was tired and could do it later, when it wasn’t some early morning hour and he didn’t have a warm bed to curl up in, but he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t put off anything when it came to his son. This was Spike’s only chance to be a father and he wasn’t going let a second of it pass him by.

Sitting down beside the bed, he stroked his son’s curls that were just like own. “Which one do you want to hear?”

“Tell me about when you met mommy.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. That was a new one. “Give me a sec,” he said. In the silence, he could hear Buffy’s heartbeat. She was hovering outside the door, eavesdropping. He’d better make this good.

“I met your mum when she was in high school.”

Tod sucked in a breath. “That must have been a really long time ago.”

Spike narrowly avoided chuckling at Buffy’s indignant huff.

“It wasn’t the dark ages, but it was several years before you were born.” Spike touched a finger briefly to his son’s nose. “I’d come to Sunnydale because I’d heard about how wonderful your mum was and I wanted to meet her. I didn’t know where to find her, but I tried a local club called the Bronze. On the dancefloor there was this beautiful woman. She was stunning. I’d never seen anyone like her before and I knew right then I would never be the same.”

“That was Mommy?”

“It was. But I was too scared to go up and talk to her. And she probably wouldn’t have taken kindly to a strange bloke butting in and putting his paws on her.”

“What did you do?” Tod asked. His little fingers were curled tight around the hem of the blanket.

“I had a…friend help me set something up so she’d go outside and I could meet her.”

Spike paused as he replayed her fight in the alley in his mind’s eye. He could still recall every detail perfectly. From her outfit, to the look of fury on her face, to every single move she’d made.

“Then what?” Tod said.

Spike smiled. “Then I was all mysterious and said I’d see her on Saturday, only I couldn’t wait and I met her at her school on Thursday.”

“Daddy’s terrible at waiting,” Buffy said, coming into the room and bending down to give Tod a kiss.

“Did you think Daddy was cool right away, too?” Tod’s eyes were darting back and forth between his parents. Buffy gave Spike her hand to help him to his feet.

“What your Dad said, about knowing right away that he was never going to be the same? That’s how it was for me too. Here was this cute guy and he felt so important. I didn’t know why then, but now I do: we were meant to be mommy and daddy to a dear little boy who should be sleeping.”

Tod yawned and snuggled against his pillow. “Can we have pancakes for breakfast?”

Buffy tucked the covers in around her son.

“With chocolate chips,” Spike said. “Mum’s favorite.”

Tod didn’t answer, he was already back in dreamland.

In his and Buffy’s bedroom, Spike checked the alarm clock-4 am-before lying down. Why did bladder emergencies never occur at 11 pm?

“This used to not be late for you,” Buffy said as she slid under the quilt. She cuddled against his side.

“I didn’t have a little boy who’s up at 6 every morning like clockwork and thinks naps are for babies.”

Buffy splayed her hand over the middle of Spike’s chest and he covered it with his own. “And whose fault is it that we have a little boy?”

“Ah, I forgot for a tic that it was entirely mine. You just laid there like a dead fish–“

“Hey!” she interrupted, but there was no anger behind her words. She knew he was teasing. Her body relaxed against his.

Spike closed his eyes, but sleep seemed out of reach. “Buffy?”

“Hmm?”

“Why would Tod ask about us meeting?”

She blew out a breath. “He’s still just little and we’re kind of his whole world. It probably makes him feel good to know we were meant to be together so he would get here.”

“Ah…he’s an amazing little tyke.”

“You looking for an argument?”

“No,” Spike chuckled. “I just feel so lucky, and he’s lucky to have you as a mum.” Spike opened his eyes and stroked Buffy’s cheek. “Nice work, luv.” To his surprise, Buffy’s entire body woke up like magic at that and the scent of her arousal hit him. “That turned you on?”

Her face was beet red as she rolled onto her stomach and smushed her nose into her pillow. “Go away,” she said, voice muffled.

“No?” This was too good. What the hell was she on about? He nuzzled in beside her on the pillow. “Now you have to bloody well tell me.” His body was already tight and wanting her. It took him less than a second to get his sweatpants off. He pushed up Buffy’s nightgown and rolled on top of her, nestling his prick between the cheeks of her ass.

“That’s not playing fair,” she grumped.

Spike kissed her shoulder. “Tell me and I’ll give you what you want.”

“You’ll do the dishes?”

He ground his cock against her.

Buffy sighed. “Fine. I was really young and you were all sexyhandsomecool and that was the first thing you ever said to me and I might have…uh, masturbated over that night, a lot.”

Spike was rather glad Buffy couldn’t see the way his mouth was hanging open.

“Just, ah–“ She wiggled under him. “Over the years what I imagined you doing after you said those words has gotten dirtier.”

There was a lump in his throat.

“Are you going to say anything, or let me die of embarrassment?”

“I love you,” he choked out as he used a knee to move her legs apart. Gently, he pushed his prick inside her, inch by inch until he was sheathed fully in her wet heat.

“I love you, too.” She was quiet for a few minutes as he made love to her, then turned her head enough to look over her shoulder. Spike moaned as she started to pulse her brilliant inner muscles with a cheeky smile on her face. “Who are you?” she asked and bit her lip.

“You’ll find out–“ He groaned. “Bloody hell, you’re going to find out in a few seconds if you keep squeezing like that.”


	18. TOD Does Halloween Pt 1

A/N: This was meant to be Part 1 of two or three, but I never ended up writing those. I'm including it here for completeness. It's sort of crack-fic, and meant to be over the top and silly. 

****  
Goosebumps surged over Buffy’s skin as Demon worked his hands under her blouse. He pushed her hard against the wall of the elevator. His cool lips and tongue were on her throat, making her moan.

William’s warm palm cupped her cheek as he tilted her head towards him to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Heat radiated from him as he pressed against her. There was something square and metal poking her backside but she ignored it as her boys continued to rapidly drive her out of her mind.

Demon’s fingers dove inside her bra at the same time William’s pressed against her clit through the rough fabric of her jeans. Buffy gasped and her whole body undulated. Making her aware of the stupid thing poking her rear again.

She needed her boys badly. It’d been a long, boring day of research that’d yielded zero results. By the end of the day she’d been bored, cranky, and really horny. The second the elevator doors had closed behind them the three of them had been on each other.

William pulled her roughly away from the wall and against him. His hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her fiercely. His lips were soft and warm. She nipped at them, making him groan. Abruptly Demon grabbed her and spun her. His claws dug into her hips as he wantonly ground his erection against her belly. His tongue was demanding as it plunged into her mouth.

“What is taking so long?” William panted. “It’s only a couple of floors. Much longer and I’m going to commit an act of public indecency.”

Gently, Buffy pushed back from Demon, who dropped his head to nuzzle her breasts. “I pressed five,” she said. The correct button was still illuminated. Her eyes dropped to the box that’d been digging into her butt earlier. It was like the one Angel had used to get to the level with the holding cells. Her hands gripped Demon’s biceps a little harder at the mental horror of thinking about either of them back in that place.

The top of the box had a long string of blinking red numbers on it. She must have accidently punched them in when she’d been forced against it. “Uh, I hope-“

The elevator ground to a halt and dinged. The door slid open on a vast, white nothingness. Demon wrapped his arms around her even as her hand shot out to clamp around William’s wrist. Under her feet the elevator car vibrated and started to dissolve into the whiteness. The walls and roof were consumed as well.

Her hand closed on empty space as William disappeared.

When Demon vanished, Buffy started screaming.

****

The scream died in her throat as she found herself standing at the end of a garden gate in deep twilight, watching a handful of trick-or-treaters knocking on a door. She looked down at herself.

Oh, crap!

She was wearing the pink miscarriage of a Halloween costume from her junior year of high school. And it was almost dark and…

Panicking, she ripped at the fabric, tearing it into shreds as she tore the dress from her body. Naked now, except for her shoes and a pair of thigh-high stockings she clearly remembered buying at Victoria’s Secret with her allowance, she dove into the bushes. It was only a second later screams sounded from the porch as the fake little monsters turned into real ones.

What the hell was going on? How had she ended up here? And where were her boys?

She sniffed back tears. She was the Slayer and didn’t cry over finding herself unexpectedly…thrown back in time? Transported to another dimension? Left with no idea if the love of her life was still alive and there with her somewhere?

Drat. There went the tears.

Spike had been downtown. Reorienting herself she darted to another set of bushes. Hearing gunfire, she glanced towards the street. Xander was there, joined a minute later by a ghostly Willow. She didn’t want to run into them and try to explain why she was naked and looking for a couple of men.

What the hell had she done to deserve this?

Glancing around, she hurried between two houses, praying she’d find William and Demon soon and that at least one of them would have a jacket.

****

William shook his head as the world rematerialized around him. Goodness. It appeared to be Sunnydale. What was going on? And where was Buffy? His heart leapt into his throat. Night was rapidly approaching and being alone in Sunnydale after nightfall probably wouldn’t be good for his health. 

Thankfully, Demon appeared right beside him just as the panic was really starting to set in. William breathed a sigh of relief.

Demon was frantically sniffing the air and turning in tight circles. He halted and looked at William with huge, pleading eyes while the most god-awful sound rose in the back of his throat.

Oh, bother.

William opened his arms and Demon collapsed against him. “Shh,” William soothed his counterpart. “We’re all right so there’s no reason to think Buffy isn’t the same.”

Demon was continuing to wail hideously. William hugged one arm around Demon’s shoulders and gently rocked side-to-side while softly petting the back of his head.

“We’ll find her,” William murmured. “Don’t fret.” Demon’s keening finally decreased in volume. William sighed as Demon wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Before you began caterwauling, did you happen to notice where we are?”

Demon stepped out of his arms and had a proper look around. His face screwed up in almost comical confusion.

“Yeah, home sweet home. I don’t have the first clue how we got here.”

Demon appeared crestfallen.

William sighed again. “I don’t think it’s because what we did was for naught. Something strange indeed is going on. Shall we find Buffy?”

His face screwed up, Demon looked around again.

A chorus of yells and screams filtered down the street and a horde of rather short demons ran by. Wait just a minute, he remembered this. “I think we might have ended up not just somewhere else, but some-when else. Remember, five or six years ago, our first Halloween on the hellmouth?”

Demon’s brows drew together. William could see the exact second the lightbulb went on. Demon’s yellow eyes softened and he cooed at the memory.

“She wore that dress for Angel, you know,” William grumbled. Demon growled briefly, but then his smile returned and he poked William in the chest. “Yes, it was us that had her bent over those pallets.” 

Demon and he simultaneously heaved happy sighs. A clawed finger poked William’s chest again.

“I don’t know if she’ll be wearing the same dress. At this point I’d just settle for her being our Buffy.”

Demon’s face fell. His cool fingers intertwined with William’s.

“Her house?” William asked.

Demon nodded and strode off, William in tow.

****

So far Buffy had avoided detection, though it’d been a near thing. She was keeping one arm clamped over her breasts, and the other one ready do its best to cover everything else. She was crouched in old Mrs. Liefter’s lilac bushes when her Slayer senses went nuts. All her muscles tensed before she recognized Spike’s signature. A second later her boys came into view. Demon had William’s hand in his and was half leading, half dragging his human counterpart down the street. They were headed towards her house.

Demon abruptly stopped and William ran into his back. Turning his head left and right, Demon’s nose twitched as he scented the air.

“Over here!” Buffy hissed.

Immediately, she was pinned between her boys, which was a good thing because her legs give out as all the tension and fear left her body. She could handle anything as long as they were together.

“Any idea what’s going on?” William asked. He stepped back, though his hand lingered, running through her hair. Demon was still wrapped around her, his nose buried against her neck as he drank her in.

“Uh, so far I’ve figured out we’re in Sunnydale and it seems to be Halloween, 1997.”

William audibly swallowed. He seemed to be struggling to keep his gaze locked on her face. Trying not to giggle, Buffy let her arm drop away from her breasts. She put her hands on her hips. William momentarily lost the battle and his eyes darted down to her chest before settling back on her face.

“Uh,” William licked his lips. “Why are you naked?”

“I had that horrible dress on. You remember, the pink one?”

William nodded.

“I couldn’t risk becoming useless-girl again, so I took it off.”

Demon’s arms left her. She glanced over to find him already shirtless and stepping out of his jeans, erection bobbing.

“Really?” William asked incredulously.

Demon waved a finger in her direction.

“Well, yes, I know she’s naked. But now might not be the best time to…uh, we have no idea what’s going on.”

Demon looked completely exasperated. He gestured emphatically at her legs.

“Of course I noticed she’s wearing thigh-high stockings, I’m not blind!” William huffed and his hand darted down to adjust himself in his pants. Like Demon, he was dressed as Spike used to, in a slightly loose black t-shirt and black jeans. Only William also had Spike’s old red button down shirt on. It was a good look for him.

Her fingers twitched with the longing to run her hands over his chest.

Scowling, William crossed his arms.

Demon glanced heavenward and heaved a sigh.

“Get dressed,” William said. “Buffy can wear my shirt, and let’s at least get out of this poor woman’s garden.”

Demon pointed agitatedly at his hard-on.

“Oh, for…” William dropped his head into his hands. “Sex at this juncture might be an entirely ill-advised endeavor-“

William was cut off as Demon, concern on his face, grabbed him and began intently examining William’s head, using his claws to drag aside his mop of hair.

“Would you cease?”

Demon whined.

“I’m perfectly fine and I most certainly did not hit my head! Just because I’m not a cretin-“

 

Buffy had reached her limit. “Oh, quit it, both of you.” She held her hand out towards Demon. The mystery could wait a few minutes and they would all think clearer without the edge of sexual tension that’d been plaguing them all day. Even William wouldn’t be able to argue that one, and knowing him he was just dying to be convinced otherwise anyway and a whole lot of arm twisting wouldn’t be needed.

Look smug, Demon grabbed her wrist, spun her, and pulled her back to his front. His cock nestled between her buttocks and he growled softly as she rolled her body against him. His hands went to her breasts to knead them and pluck at the nipples. Desire, hot and needy, surged from where Demon’s fingers were working to pool between her thighs.

“William,” she whimpered.

“I hope everyone’s too busy with the influx of diminutive monsters to notice us fornicating behind these bushes,” he grumbled as he stripped his shirts off.

Demon crowed in success. One of his hands trailed a path from her breasts down to her pussy. She gasped as his fingers spread her open and teased over her clit. William undressed faster. He toed off his boots and yanked down his zipper with a grunt.

The jeans dropped to the ground. No underwear. Buffy lifted an eyebrow as William rubbed at the red marks the zipper had left on his cock. Hand on dick, he glanced up at her. His fist tightened. “Oh, Buffy,” he breathed. In front of her he dropped to his knees and his free hand grabbed her hip. His tongue landed on her clit and began to lick.

She would have fallen if Demon hadn’t been holding her up. She wove her fingers into William’s sandy curls.

Demon’s hand left her sex as he positioned to tip of his cock at her entrance. Grabbing her hip, he rammed himself home. Buffy grunted at the intrusion. Demon stilled to let her adjust. Good freaking whatever, it almost wasn’t fair how good it felt. She’d almost swear his cock had been specially designed to please her.

Her eyes opened for a second. William was right, the late autumn state of the lilac’s foliage meant they weren’t screened all that well from anyone who happened to wander along.

William’s tongue tapped her clit and Demon started moving his hips in short, sharp thrusts.

Uh, yeah, maybe no one would walk by.

Demon’s arms were around her middle, holding her up as he plowed into her. He was hitting that one spot inside her pussy just right while William’s tongue was laving her clit and driving her higher and higher. She wanted to tell them not to stop, but only inarticulate noises escaped her throat. The walls of her pussy and the muscles in her stomach wound tighter. She shook as she came and keened her pleasure.

Demon increased his pace, their bodies slapping together. Demon grunted and his mouth went to the nape of her neck. His tongue licked her skin briefly before he gently pressed his fangs against her as if he was holding her in place. Oh, yes, but it wasn’t enough. She jerked her head side-to-side, forcing the sharp points of Demon’s teeth deeper. That was it. She quickly came again, the pleasure almost pain and the rush of relief as her body pulsed with the orgasm was nearly unbearable.

Snarling against the back of her neck, Demon stiffened and bucked wildly against her as he came. As soon as he regained control, he let her go and his cock slid from her body. Buffy immediately sagged forward bonelessly and ended up straddling the kneeling William. With a hand on her ass he adjusted her and pushed his erection into her still faintly pulsing channel.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her mouth to his. William kissed so sweetly. She could live in those kisses. His hands tugged on her ass and she rolled her hips, making him moan against her lips. Their tongues swirled about each other as their bodies surged together.

Demon’s hand petted her head and something poked her cheek. She opened her eyes to find him standing right beside her and William. He was hard again and begging for attention. William leaned towards his counterpart and drew Demon’s cock into his mouth.

That was a sight she was never going to get used to. William was humming his enjoyment as he licked Demon’s shaft clean of the combination of her cream and Demon’s come. She knew William liked the taste and let him have his fill while she clenched her inner muscles tight around his cock. Panting, William released Demon and bowed his head forward so his chin was resting on her shoulder.

Demon fisted his hard-on and ran the tip over her lips. She pushed his hand away and sucked Demon’s cock deep into her mouth. Willing herself to relax she leaned forward and was able to take nearly all of him down her throat. All the practice was really paying off. She swallowed around the head of his shaft and Demon whimpered. She bobbed her head and used her tongue to trace the underside of his shaft.

William rose up slightly on his knees and his pelvis churned as he began screwing her in earnest.

If someone had asked she would have had no way to describe the bone-deep satisfaction she felt at pleasuring both her boys at the same time. Her enjoyment spiraled her into another cataclysmic orgasm. It rolled on and on, leaving her shaking and profoundly fulfilled. Demon patted her head.

She had to let Demon go for a second while she caught her breath, then took him down again. Demon was grunting with every bob of her head.

“Oh god, yes, Buffy. Bloody well suck it,” William muttered.

Buffy cracked one eye open. Behind his glasses William’s eyes were completely glazed over. He probably had no idea what he was saying, but she was going to remember that one to tease him about later.

William’s hips moved in a series of hard thrusts. “Oh, god,” he moaned again. “Oh, god-“ He came with a hoarse yell and his cock jerked hard inside her. William’s hands left her ass in order to clasp her tight to his chest as he breathed raggedly against her neck.

Demon’s cock was still in her mouth. He grabbed a handful of her long hair and brushed it over the skin of his thigh and hip as she continued to suck him down. His legs quivered and he grunted as he spilled his load into her throat. She swallowed noisily and gently licked his shaft until he was completely spent. Buffy let him go and Demon sat down next to them, cuddling up against her and William. He was purring contentedly.

“That wasn’t such a bad idea,” William said dazedly.

Buffy grinned. “It never is.”

After a few minutes, they reluctantly stood and started dressing. Buffy helped Demon get his pants on and done up with a minimum of growling. He tried to give her his shirt, but William said she should take the red button-down instead.

Demon looked put-out.

“Sorry you have to actually put all your clothes on,” she said and patted his back.

The red shirt covered pretty much everything, which was a relief.

After deciding to leave a couple buttons at the top undone, Buffy looked up to find both her guys staring dopey-eyed at her.

“It looks good on you.” William’s voice was gruff. Demon nodded his agreement.

Men.

Though, truthfully, she was sort of excited to be wearing Spike’s shirt as well.

The collar, along with her hair, should hide the vampire fang marks on the back of her neck from prying eyes. And there would most likely be plenty of those before this little adventure was over.

“I think we should go stop Ethan Rayne first,” Buffy suggested. “It’ll be easier to deal with our time and space problem if we’re also not trying to avoid hordes of mini-demons.”

“I concur. Do you know where he is?” William grasped her hand with his.

“Strangely enough, I do. I even know how to end the spell. Everything’s kind of easier when you don’t have to solve the mystery first.”

“Lead on then.”

Demon grabbed her other hand. After a placing a kiss on both William’s and Demon’s cheeks, she set off towards the costume shop. Ethan Rayne could had idea what was coming for him.

****

Willow was reconsidering her choice of Halloween costume. While it was convenient to be able to walk through walls, it was a pain not being able to touch anything.

She’d left Cordelia, Soldier-Xander (wasn’t that a blast—not), and Angel hunkered down in Buffy’s house. Buffy herself was a no show and Willow was incredibly worried. That stupid dress might have turned her friend into a real eighteenth century lady who’d be unable to take care of herself.

Willow hadn’t told Angel that, or he wouldn’t have stayed behind to guard the others while Willow tried to track her down. Surely Buffy couldn’t have gone too far.

Unless some demon had her.

Like Spike, who’d come to Sunnydale for the sole purpose of killing Buffy. If he had her in his clutches…

Growling and mewling from the lilac bushes in front of old Mrs. Liefter’s house caught her attention. It sounded like someone was being mauled. While she couldn’t do much more than yell, maybe she could scare away whatever child-turned monster was there, or call for help.

A few feet onto the lawn Willow froze.

That was…not what she was expecting.

At all.

Buffy was naked except for the stocking and shoes she’d been wearing under her dress, and she was…on top of…kind of...a guy. A guy with glasses and curly, untamed hair. He looked like a nerd.

Why the hell was Buffy…doing that…with a nerd?

The dorky looking guy was basically holding her up though, the muscles of his arms standing out in relief. Okay, so he was a very strong nerd.

Belatedly, Willow realized there was a third body there.

She eeped and took a step back because ohmygod, that was Spike, bleached hair, vampire bumpies, fangs and…everything. Er, that was rather a lot more of Spike than she’d thought she would ever see.

Willow opened her mouth to call a warning, but stopped because Buffy seemed very aware that the vampire was right there.

And, uh, wow. Apparently Buffy didn’t have a gag reflex.

Or taste in men.

Willow felt her nose crinkle up. Had Buffy switched costumes? Maybe she’d had a back-up, uh, skank one, or something.

Spike’s yellow eyes were rolling back as Buffy continued to, erm, do her thing. While the other, sandy-haired dork continued to do his, ah, thing. Buffy appeared to be having a very good time if the blissful expression on her face was anything to go by.

Willow suddenly wanted to see Giles very badly.

He’d know what to do.

Willow took off running full speed towards the school. Thankfully, she was a ghost and didn’t need to stop for breath or swerve around obstacles.

Giles would make everything make sense again, right?


	19. The William, The Buff, and the Wardrobe

A/N: This was my chapter for the first Exquisite Corpse challenge on EF. I was given the first paragraph and had to send the last one to the next person. Therefore, it can be read as a stand-alone. Rated E-ish. 

****

“Think when we get my Buffy back and send you home, you should maybe give your own Spike a bit of a chance, love.”  Stranger-Spike relaxed his full palm against the mirror, and curled his tongue at her.  It was the very first moment he felt anything like the Spike she knew, but hold on — flirting with her mortal enemy felt familiar?  Since when?  It was disturbing, she decided; she was experiencing disturbance.  And a little disorientation, from being in the wrong world.  She put her free hand out to steady herself against the cold glass. And then with a wrenching feeling in her stomach, everything,  _everything_ went pear-shaped, upside-down and inside-out and she was hanging onto stranger-Spike’s arm with every ounce of her Slayer strength as each atom in her body was sucked forward separately and painfully into the mirror.  And her last, foolish, inappropriate, fashion-conscious thought was not about how to get herself back to her own dimension; or who would take care of her sister if she didn’t; or even the evil metaphysics underlying magic mystery mirror portals. No, her last thought was this:  if she had to be sucked painfully through a looking glass as part of some big cosmic let’s-mess-with-Buffy event, did she  _really_ have to do it dressed in nothing but Spike’s stupid red shirt?

The ground in this world was really, really uncomfortable. Her head ached and her throat burned. When she got around to filling out a comment card for that last trip she so wasn’t going to be nice.

Opening her eyes, Buffy frowned. This didn’t look right at all. So far everywhere she’d ended up had pretty much been Sunnydale, just with more or less shrimp, or taffy, or whatever. This looked like she’d dropped into one of those shows Giles liked to watch on PBS, only the balmy night air felt like home and there were still palm trees. The general lack of cars and electric lights were making her worry, however. The street under her was cobblestone, which she was sure no one back home would have agreed to.

Buffy stood on shaky legs and looked around. If experience was anything to go by, she’d be running into Spike soon. She apparently had some cosmic link to him that she really didn’t want to think about too hard. Hopefully he’d be with the nice again, and could get her some actual clothes. She clutched Spike’s red shirt tighter around herself, feeling very self-conscious standing mostly naked in the middle of a cobblestone street at whatever time of night it was.

She looked up and down the rows of close together houses. There wasn’t a flicker of light or movement in any of them. With a shrug, she picked a direction and was about to start walking when she heard…singing.

It was off key and garbled, but the voice sounded very familiar.

Her face lit up. Spike!

Head down, a man was walking along the side walk, weaving a little every couple of steps in a way that decidedly said: not sober. How typical. Totally not typical was what he was wearing. Buffy furrowed her brow at the stuffy looking tailored suit, though the collar was undone, the bowler hat, and were those glasses?

Spike appeared to be lost in his own world, because he didn’t see her, even when she stepped right in front of him, until he bumped into her.

Startled, he grabbed her elbow, and even through the shirt she had on she could feel the warmth of his palm.

“Terribly sorry, Miss. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“That’s obvious,” she muttered, though Spike didn’t appear to have heard her. His eyes were riveted on her bare legs. “Spike,” she said, louder.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, pulling his gaze back up to her face. He managed five seconds, she counted, before his eyes went right back to her legs. “I believe you must be mistaken.”

Buffy frowned. This guy was totally Spike. He had Spike’s nose, chin, and broad shoulders. Sure, the hair leaking out from under the bowler was darker and curlier than she’d ever seen Spike’s, but she’d know his piercing blue eyes and full lower lip anywhere. She had once spent an evening kissing said lip, after all. She tried again: “William?”

“Do I know you?” he asked. He appeared to be attempting to lift his gaze to her face, but it stalled in the vicinity of her breasts, which she currently had one arm under, before dropping to her bare legs yet again.

“Buffy? Buffy Summers?” she tried.

He shook his head. “I’m sure I’d remember, though…” A sudden look of horror washed over his face and he snatched his hand back. She missed the warmth. “I’m not one to frequent houses of ill repute!”

“What?” It took her a minute. “Are you calling me a whore?” She didn’t mean to, but she slapped him anyway. Spike did not get to say things like that. His head snapped to the side. “I’m cold, alone, lost, and I was trying to ask for help.”

He blushed neon red. “S-s-sorry, Miss.” Spike didn’t blush. He couldn’t. Warm hand, glasses, blushing. She checked out his throat and sure enough, there was a pulse just visible there. She glared at him. An apparently very human him. “I have a bit of a shine on, we were swapping a few words down at the pub and…sorry.” He was squinting through his glasses at her. “Moonlight becomes you, Miss. Turns that golden crown to radiant silver.”

“Can we go back to lost?”

“Oh, right. My mum’s visiting relatives in the country, why don’t you come along and put on one of her gowns?”

“Uh, sure.”

William tucked her hand into his elbow. “As for lost. You’re not lost! I found you!” He gave her a shy smile that she couldn’t help but return.

“But I’m in Sunnydale, right?” She hoped she didn’t sound like a lunatic.

“Of course! Sunnydale in the province of California in Her Majesty’s Commonwealth State of America.”

That was a whole bucket of ‘oh crap’ she wasn’t even going to think about touching.

William led her up the walk of one of the immaculate houses and undid the latch. The inside of the home was as well-kept and orderly as the exterior. Releasing her hand, William set about lighting several oil lamps. He picked one up and gestured towards the stairs. “Mum’s room is this way.”

She followed him, marveling at how ornate the carved banister was. William showed her into a lushly appointed bedroom and opened a wardrobe to root around in the back. He pulled out a dove gray gown with ivory trim that would cover her from neck to feet. He bent over–she absolutely did not look at his ass–and a moment later a pair of boots with pearl buttons landed on the floor.

“Underthings?” she prompted, when he just stood there.

His face flamed red again. “Not sure about giving bits of my mum’s trousseau away, but a pair of stocking would be in order.” He found a pair of white silk ones and the belts to keep them in place. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, backing out the door and pulling it mostly closed.

Buffy eyed the dress. How the hell was she supposed to get that thing on? There were more buttons, clasps, and fabric than any fifteen of her regular outfits. The stocking seemed straightforward, though, so she pulled those on, and darn if they didn’t feel almost sinful gliding against her skin. Tongue between her teeth, she managed to fasten the garter belts.

“You doing okay, luv?” Spikes voice sounded like he was down the hallway.

“Yeah,” she called a she took off the red shirt and dropped it on the floor. “Are you sure you don’t know any families with the name Summers?”

“Might have heard of one in town. I believe the daughters are Elizabeth and Dawn.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course it’d be Elizabeth. “You should look them up.”

“Why?”

“I just have a feeling. Elizabeth might be in need of a friend.” Buffy’s mind flew away with her and she imagined an exquisite wedding dress with heaps of lace and a bunch of little kids running around a big house like this one. All the things she would never have. The fact she was thinking William completed the picture as the groom and father was more than she could really figure out at the moment, except that it was okay because in this reality he was William, alive and with a soul, and that made it okay to want those things with him.

Buffy’s hand went to her lips. Why was it so wrong to want her Spike…

The door creaked behind her. “Bloody hell!” William barked.

Still very nude, she spun to find William standing there, gaping at her.

“I thought you’d be dressed,” he said weakly as he stared in general area of her nipples. She stared right back because he’d lost the hat and his light brown curls were stealing over his forehead in just the right way to make her want to brush them out of his eyes. His coat was gone as well, leaving him in a shirt and a pair of tight trousers, which were doing next to nothing to hide the reaction he was having to her.

Holy.

Buffy waited, because in the next instant William would say something or do something and she’d just be able to fall against him and pretend nothing mattered because she was in a different dimension and who cared what naughty things she did with a human Spike?

Only he didn’t move. Well, his very impressive cock twitched.

“William…have you ever seen a naked girl before?”

His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and it took him several tries to get any words out. “Not in real life,” he squeaked.

“Have you ever had sex?” she asked and he shook his head. William was too adorable and the raging fire that’d erupted in the pit of her belly was too much to ignore. She wanted him. Or maybe Spike. This was all so confusing. He was Spike, just one that it was okay to be with. She took a step towards him. “Have you ever been kissed?” she asked, her eyes sweeping up from his erection to his lips. He shook his head again.

The distance between them disappeared and she put her hands on his shoulders and covered his mouth with hers. She pressed her lips against his and for a heartbeat he didn’t move, but then he gave a soft wail and was eagerly smashing his lips to hers. It was obvious he had no idea what he was doing and that felt so very wrong. Spike would know how to kiss just right to make her knees weak.

Not that there wasn’t something to be said for enthusiasm. She settled her hands on William’s cheeks and helped him find just the right angle. When her tongue glided across his lips and then deep into his mouth, which tasted of him and whisky, William groaned loudly. Buffy found herself pushed up against the door of the room with William’s tongue plundering her mouth as he artlessly ground his cock against her.

When his very warm hand gripped her ass and began to knead she gave in and rubbed wantonly back against him. The hallway runner, which might actually be a Persian carpet, was starting to sound like a fine place to relieve William of his virginity.

Pretty white lace. Ridiculous words of love. Family portraits with bundles of joy.

Buffy opened her eyes. William didn’t belong to her. She couldn’t just…damn it, Elizabeth better appreciate this.

Though there was no reason she couldn’t pretend she was a horny teenager in high school. “I’m not…going to…do you right now.”

William stopped (mostly) and looked dazedly into her face like he couldn’t quite figure out her words.

“How about a hand job?” she asked.

“A what?”

She reached down and undid the buttons on his trousers, reaching inside to pull out his cock. Which she stroked. “Y’know, a hand job.”

“Oh.” His eyes had gone unfocused and were trending towards crossed.

“And you do me.”

“Er … Miss Buffy … how?”

She used her free hand to guide William’s fingers to her pussy. “Feel this?” She circled his first two fingers over her clit. “You want to pet that.” She showed him the motion and rhythm she liked best. Even tipsy he caught on quick and she gasped as he worked her nub.

“What about … the other part of you?” he asked tentatively.

“That’s more complicated, but nothing has to be in there for me to come.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.” She managed not to laugh. “Though trust me when I say usually I like something nice and hard to slide right in there.”

William whimpered and thrust against her palm.

She guided his fingers to her opening and let him shallowly push the tips of a couple into her. He groaned loudly. “You can use my own cream to make this easier.” Catching on, he returned to rubbing her clit, the feeling even more heady with the way he was now gliding over her swollen flesh. Damn, she was wet. She let go of his dick for a second and swept her palm over her pussy, drenching it, before grabbing Spike’s cock and pumping him with sharp strokes.

She steadied herself with a hand on his chest and kissed him again, feeling delightfully naughty. This was wrong, but not for the evil, undead reasons it would have been with Spike.

It seemed like no time at all before she gave a long, low moan and came, her hips pushing forward against his fingers. She had to let go over his cock while she shuddered through her orgasm to keep from squeezing too tight. William’s face was a mask of wonder. “Such a beautiful sight,” he whispered in awe.

Buffy smiled. “Just wait.” She wrapped her hand firmly around William’s shaft and stroked. William panted and babbled something she couldn’t make out. His hips started trusting and he sought her lips, crushing his mouth against hers as his cock jerked in her hand and his warm semen shot onto her belly and thighs.

William propped himself up with one hand against the door. “Oh god,” he moaned as Buffy let go of his softening member. “Buffy, oh luv…” ­­­He caught sight of the come dripping down her body. “Dear me, I’m sorry, I didn’t think!” He took a step into the hallway, stopped to sheepishly tuck away his cock, and hurried to what Buffy guessed was his room. He returned a moment later with a handkerchief, beautifully monogramed with ‘WP’ in one corner, and shakily handed it to her. She cleaned herself off and walked over to the bed, still feeling warm and loose from her own release.

“Can you help me with the dress?”

“I supposed. Though you remaining naked does have some appeal.”

She gave him a withering look and he hastened to help her get the dress on and its myriad of buttons done up. Dropping to a knee he helped with the shoes as well. They didn’t fit right, being on the big side, but they’d do for now. The dress fit remarkably well, however. It was too bad she didn’t have a way to put her hair up. “How do I look?” she asked William, giving a little spin.

“Breathtaking. But don’t take my word for it.” He moved to the other side of the room and pulled a dust drape off a huge, oval mirror. Buffy balked. What the hell? She needed an almost-no-mirrors universe. William stepped to her side and put a hand on her back. Maybe nothing bad would happen? Sometimes a mirror was just a mirror, right? Standing in front of the glass her eyes went wide at the gentile Victorian lady who looked back. The dress really did look good on her, even with her hair down. “See? Beautiful,” William rasped. He put a hand out and ran his fingers over the reflection of her face.

Her image waved.

Oh no. It was happening again.

She turned desperate eyes towards William. “Even if you think this was all a drink induced wet dream, please remember: Elizabeth Summers. You need to find Elizabeth Summers.” William was reaching out a hand to her, his face horrified, but it was too late, she was already falling through the mirror.

The transition wasn’t so bad this time, not that she’d recommend mirror travel to anyone. Buffy looked around. She’d ended up…at the Bronze? In full Victorian dress? A quick glance at the menu showed her that this was still a world with shrimp. Vampire tinglies that said ‘Spike’ pricked the back of her neck. Phew, at least she wasn’t going to have to hunt him down in this reality. Maybe it was time to look for Giles? Surely he could help her find her way home.


	20. A Tamle Cad Can

A/N: My chapter for the second Exquisite Corpse Challenge. Totally rated E. I broke up the first paragraph because it was a massive wall of text on my phone when I red it, so the bold stuff was all the paragraph I was sent. 

****

**The clock in the hall struck midnight and Buffy woke, feeling disoriented.**

**Yesterday had been the worst ever so far. Not only had she found herself launched out of Faith’s body, taking a trip into the unknown; but her essence was somehow now inside the body of a four-year-old boy called Ricky, who sucked his thumb at night, had a penchant for balloons and hot chocolate, and a mommy who loved him deeply -- so much so that she’d been smothered in kisses while in his body and had to endure a raspberry blown on her belly.**

**Now, she found herself in the precarious position of needing to call Giles from their home phone, to find out why the spell hadn’t placed her directly back in her own** body, **while using little legs which were hardly longer than her own forearm. It was almost like descending a mountain as she climbed over the stair gate and shuffled down the stairs on her bottom, spotting the home phone in the hallway above her on an occasional table. She heard a chirp in the darkness and saw a large, fluffy grey cat sauntering towards her. It rubbed its head on her waist and meowed.**

 **“Shush,” she said, placing a small finger over her mouth as she stood on** tip toes **and reached up for the telephone. She could barely touch it, so pulled on the cord until it fell, catching it deftly. She dialed Giles’ number and hoped to god he’d be home and not out searching for her.**

**You’d think having been in Faith’s body once would have been enough times, but no, she’d gotten to have a second fun freaky Friday adventure, this time without a presto-returno object and with a lot more dumb, messed up magic.**

**The phone rang and rang.**

**Damn it, where was Giles?**

The gray cat brushed against her legs. Buffy reached down to pat the cat’s head. She scratched behind the kitty’s ears and then nearly fell over as the entire world lurched.

Oh no.

Not again. Things had been crazy enough lately. So much had been happening and none of it made sense and—

“Meow?”

Buffy huffed and looked up at the body of the kid she’d so recently been inhabiting. The little face screwed up and he let out a wail.

Great.

She hoped Giles didn’t answer now because all he’d hear was a crying kid. There was a flurry of steps as the brat’s mom rushed past, knocking Buffy-as-a-cat out of the way.

Buffy hoped she didn’t look as weird as she felt as she forced her four legs into some semblance of motion and got away from the bawling kid. So not up her alley.

She muddled her way into the kitchen and ungracefully pushed her way through the cat door into the backyard.

Bingo!

She’d get to Giles and…er…somehow let him know that she was a cat? And he’d fix it. At least he hadn’t gone back to England like he’d been threatening to. Her post-resurrection life was hard enough without someone to back her up on the demon research front.

She stared up at the fence.

Okay, she could do this.

Getting her hind legs under her, she wiggled her butt and launched herself into the air—

—and right into the side of the fence.

Ugh.

Five tries later, and she was one pissed off furball.

Couldn’t this family have picked a more athletic cat?

On the plus side, she wasn’t a rat.

The sixth time she remembered she had claws and sunk them into the wood. One less than acrobatic scramble later and she was up and over the fence.

Freedom!

Of course, she was on the far side of Sunnydale, but she quickly settled her four legs into a ground-eating trot.

Buffy skirted downtown and detoured through a cemetery. She couldn’t see around the headstones, and after a while, she had the feeling she’d just made a circle. She was pretty sure she was in Restfield.

Maybe?

Cat senses were keen but focused on movement and scents. It was all very unfamiliar, and none of it was helping keep her from being lost.

A bright flare caught her eye, and she turned her head. It took her a minute to figure out what she was seeing. The light was the cherry at the end of a cigarette being smoked by one very familiar vampire as he lounged against the side of his crypt.

Buffy had never been so stupidly glad to see Spike in her entire life.

She ran to him and gave into her first instinct, which was to rub herself against his legs and purr as loud as she could.

Spike snorted. “Well, hello there.” He flicked away the butt of his cig and crouched down. “What’s a fluffy bucket like you doing in a place like this?”

Buffy meowed.

“You lost, fluffy?” He ran a hand down her back and then sunk his fingers into her coat, scratching her head and neck.

Buffy launched herself into his arms.

“You’re barking, er, mewing, up the wrong tree,” Spike said, but he didn’t try to push her away. “I used to think bits like you made a tasty snack.” His demon flickered across his face for a moment.

Whatever. It was almost sad Spike was trying to convince a random cat he was still the big bad. She leaned against his chest and started purring. Spike sighed.

“I’m going inside.”

She didn’t budge.

“Fine.”

Inside his crypt, Spike collapsed onto his chair. The TV was blaring some late night commercial that Spike didn’t even bother glancing at. He picked up a bottle of cheap whiskey from beside his chair, frowned at it, and put it back down.

“Not yet,” he said. “My girl might still come round tonight. Don’t want to be pissed when she does.”

Buffy inadvertently flexed her claws as a wave of jealousy washed over her.

Girl? His girl? Who was he talking about?

“Hey, now, no sharp bits, yeah? Buffy wouldn’t want the merchandise scratched up before she’s had a chance to do it herself.”

Oh, he meant her. Tucking her paws more firmly under her, Buffy settled down.

“Was expecting her,” Spike said, leaning back and speaking more or less to the ceiling. “She usually doesn’t stay away this long. Things have been wonky lately, but they can’t have been too bad if she’s not been by to ask for help from yours truly.”

Buffy twitched her tail. Hadn’t she asked him for help already during the last few days? Her mind was kind of muddy. She would like to now, except all that would come out was a meow. Tomorrow evening she’d get him to go to Giles somehow so this whole thing could be taken care of.

“I hate when she does this, tries to stay away without a word. Not that she cares about me, mind you, I’m just the guy who takes care of an itch for her…but I love her. Can’t help it. She doesn’t care about that part none either. Doesn’t believe me. Because if she did, then that would mean she was loveable.”

Buffy sat very still. What was he saying? That…that…she didn’t let him love her because she couldn’t love herself? Her tiny cat heart ached, and she mewed piteously.

“Hush,” Spike said, rubbing at her ears. “It alright. I take what I can get. It’s not what I want…”

It wasn’t? Could have fooled her. She snorted daintily.

“Not at all what I want. Buffy, she’s got to be able to hate me, see? Otherwise, what would that sodding say about her? And don’t feel bad for me, love shagging her, and don’t mind doing it dirty, I just hate that it’s got to always be like that. Can’t for a moment pretend we’re a real couple, that I’m making love to a bird I fancy because then Buffy’s kicking me in the head and running out of here.”

Spike put a hand over his eyes.

“I know—” His voice hitched. “I know I’m nothing, less than that to her, but it’d be nice if just for one bloody moment Buffy could see me as I am and not as the demon she thinks she needs me to be. It’s Dru all over again. Got to be evil enough for her, because otherwise Buffy might like me, and we can’t have any of that.”

Buffy was frozen. She was the same as Drusilla? She wanted him to play the demon? That wasn’t…that wasn’t…She gave another half-choked mew, and Spike stroked her while he continued to stare up at the ceiling.

“It’s not all bad. I love seeing Buffy smile. Try to make her laugh when I can. I just wish…I’m trying to be what she wants me to, and I think I’m buggering it up. The two of us can never be the kind of couple that has a minivan and two-point-five kids, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t be happy. Even just watching movies together or going for ice cream in between graveyards while she’s on patrol. I could do…I could be so much more if she wanted.” He paused. “But she doesn’t. The worst of it, fluffball, is that I’m sitting here missing her something fierce. I want her to walk in that door and clock me upside my noggin. We’d get in a bit of a row, and she’d fight me right down to the last minute, then she’d be begging for me to make her feel, make her come.”

He went silent again. Buffy stretched out her front paws and kneaded his leg. She found she hated his entirely too accurate description of their so-called relationship. It wasn’t her. She wouldn’t treat someone else like that.

Only she was.

Because Spike was right. Buffy wanted what he could give her, but only on her terms, and only when she felt she couldn’t be held responsible.

But if there was anything all the weirdness lately had taught her, it was that things never turned out how you were expecting.

Spike picked up the whiskey bottle again, moved to uncap it, then hurled it at the wall instead. It shattered, and the booze dripped down the wall to the dusty floor.

“She’s not coming,” he said. Hunching forward, he put his head in his hands. “I probably did something to brass her off more than normal, and she’s not bloody coming.”

Buffy wished fervently that she could be herself, if only for a little while. She’d throw her arms around Spike, who she’d never seen this beaten down, and hold him. Tell him he was wrong, that she could be sweet. That the ugly portrait he was painting of her wasn’t true.

As soon as she could, she’d let him know the real Buffy wasn’t like what he was saying. A few alarm bells went off in her skull. She was going to risk losing her distance from him if she did that. No more pretending.

Maybe it was time to stop.

Spike eventually stood and carried her down the ladder to his bedroom. He found a small dish from who knows where and filled it with water from one of the unopened bottles he had for when she was there as regular-Buffy and needed a drink.

Buffy lapped at it as Spike stripped and blotted out the candles burning around the room.

He climbed into bed and lay on his side, one hand stretching out towards the empty side of the bed.

“Miss you,” he mumbled, and his tone of longing and heartache would have made her cry if that was a thing cats did. Instead, she jumped on the bed and settled herself against his back. “I’ll get you some food if you’re still around tomorrow.” She purred and rubbed her head against him.

She promised herself one more time before sleep overcame her that she would show Spike that she wasn’t how he believed her to be.

Buffy knew she could be a good…girlfriend.

 

****

 

Buffy wiggled as she woke up. She stretched before snuggling against the lean body beside her.

Her eyes flew open.

She was human. Human and lying cuddled against Spike. Neither of those were exactly terrible things. Holding up her hands, Buffy inspected them.

Yup, those were her hands.

She lifted the covers to survey her naked body.

Totally hers.

Her eyes darted over to admire Spike’s rear—he was sleeping on his stomach with his face towards her—before she dropped the covers back into place.

She curled her toes. This was fantastic.

In the low light of the crypt, she turned on her side to study Spike’s sleeping face. The things he’d unknowingly said to cat-her earlier were still lodged in her chest. She was hurting him, but he was doing his best to be what she wanted.

Only…crap. Buffy didn’t even really know what she wanted.

She reached a hand up to rest a palm on his cheek. It was easier when he acted like a demon. Evil. Then she was doing the wrong thing by sleeping with him, and she could hate him. Hate herself.

The alternative was terrifying.

It was feeling in a whole different way. A more difficult way. A way she wasn’t sure she was strong enough for.

Spike’s eyes fluttered open.  

“You came,” he said, a grin stealing over his face. Buffy smiled shyly at his joy. A second later his face darkened. “Where you’ve been then?” He grabbed her arms and rolled so he was pinning her wrists beside her ears. “You run out of other boys to get your jollies from and thought you’d come have a round with ole Spike? Or did they run away because—”

“Stop.” Her voice was quiet. A few days ago, his words would have pissed her off. Made her angry in a way she would have welcomed. She would have fought as much as fucked him. Now she knew. Buffy could even see it. The harsh words, the anger, it was all a mask, one he thought she wanted him to wear.

Spike scoffed. “Don’t want to be reminded that rolling in the mud—”

“Stop,” she said again. “I don’t want…I don’t want to fight.”

His brow furrowed.

“Let go, lie down.”

Spike studied her face. After what felt like forever, he released her arms and lay on his side, facing her.

“What’re you on about, luv?” he asked softly. His expression was still closed off, but there was confusion in his eyes.

She rolled to towards him and pressed her lips to his as sweetly as she could. Spike didn’t move. Undeterred, she continued to carefully kiss his still lips as she lightly stroked her hand down his side to rest on his hip.

“What do you want?” Spike whispered against her mouth. He sounded hesitant, nearly scared. She was changing the rules on him, and she guessed he didn’t know what to do.

Buffy leaned her forehead against his. The jumbled mess of the last few days threatened to consume her, but there had always been one theme amid the madness. One constant no matter how wacky everything had been.

Spike.

“Love me,” she said.

“Buffy.” Spike’s voice was rough, but his hand was gentle as it slid over her back. He swept it down past her ass to her thigh and then to her knee, guiding her to hitch her leg over his hip. His lips pressed to hers, and he kissed her tenderly. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she welcomed him.

He worked his other arm under her until he was able to hug her with it, cupping the back of her head as their tongues spiraled together.

There was heat and desire, both familiar and new as the blaze of their lust didn’t ignite an out of control wildfire. This was a flame in a fireplace that kept her comfortable and warm.

She covered his hand on her leg with her own and pulled it up until his fingers were on her breast, moaning as he kneaded it.

Her body was liquid with desire.

Buffy traced her fingers over Spike’s chest, then trailed them down his stomach, the muscles twitching under her touch. He groaned when she wrapped her fist around his cock. He was hard, straining towards her like always, but he did nothing except whimper as she slowly stroked him.

It was her that finally guided the head of his cock to her opening. She was slick with arousal and ached to be filled.

Spike paused on the cusp of pushing inside her.

“Do you want me?” he asked. “Buffy?”

“Yes.”

He moaned, and the head of his cock breached her. Buffy trembled. Slowly he thrust inside her inch by inch while he worshiped her mouth.

When he was fully seated, she pressed her entire body tight against his. “Spike,” she said, voice breaking. She smushed her face against his neck. “Spike.”

She was feeling. Not the shame, anger, and frantic lust that she usually felt in his bed. Something long buried in her mind, in her heart, was cracking open.

“I’ve got you,” he muttered. “My Buffy.”

Her heart was beating a million times a minute.

“My girl. I love you.”

“Spike,” she breathed. Warmth erupted in her chest, strange and brand new. She gasped softly as what it was dawned on her. It’d been what she’d been afraid of. Only it was sweet and warm and far, far better than the dark emotions she usually nursed when she was with him. This was beautiful. Tender.

He rocked his hips, sliding in and out of her by only a few inches, but it was more than enough to make her moan and writhe as she clung to him. She kissed his neck and jaw, his lips and shoulder.

The raw heat inside her slowly ratcheted up, but she couldn’t move how she needed to, couldn’t find the right angle. She felt good, but what they were doing wasn’t quite enough.

“Hey,” she whispered in Spike’s ear, nipping softly at his earlobe, making him grunt. “Will you be mad if I ask you something?”

“I don’t know the square root of pi.”

“Seriously not what I was going to ask.”

He nuzzled her temple. “Then you better go ahead and tell me what your question is.” His tone was light, teasing, and she couldn’t get enough of it. This had always been here, waiting for her, and she was basking in his joy.

“I don’t want you to get mad.”

“This is getting more ominous by the second, pet.”

“Er… I could use…harder?”

Spike chuckled. “I think that can be arranged, we’ll just have to adjust a bit.”

“Is that okay? Spike…I want you to know…” She didn’t quite have words for what she wanted him to know. His hips stilled as he looked into her eyes.

“Buffy,” he breathed out raggedly, then he was moving. He pulled his cock from her body, and she made a sound of displeasure, which he soothed with a kiss. Keeping her on her side, he pushed her leg forward, straddled her thigh that was still resting on the bed, and brought her top leg back to curl around his waist.  She twisted slightly so she could watch him as his hands roved over her hip and rear.

He stroked her thigh that was pressed against his belly for a moment, then grabbed his cock and rubbed the head through her folds and over her clit, smiling widely as she gasped. He kept it up, pressing the tip of his dick against her clit until she was moaning and wiggling.

“This isn’t harder,” she managed to gasp out.

“But it’s better,” he said, and she nodded mutely as her thighs tensed. One of her hands gripped his forearm and the other fisted the sheets. He was so right, and the playful smile on his face told her he knew he was.

She was going to…she was going to…

Buffy peaked with muffled shout.

In the next instant, Spike thrust his cock inside her.

Oh god.

She cried out and slumped against the bed. It felt like he was deep enough to touch her heart. His fingers circled over her clit as he slowly plunged in and out of her. She put her hand down to caress his sac and he groaned softly.

The flick of his fingers over her clit and the steady motion of his cock drove her over the edge again quickly. The bliss went on and on and, cripes, it put the hard and dirty screwing they’d done to shame.

Spike didn’t speed up, though he was breathing hard through his nose and the muscles of his belly were standing out in relief, signs he was close to coming.

His fingers, which had paused, resumed circling her clit. She watched the delight on his face as she panted, quickly reaching for another peak.

“One more time,” he said, voice deep and hoarse. “For me, kitten. Come for me.”

How could she say no?

“Spike,” she bit out as another orgasm hit her, the pleasure almost painful as her pussy milked Spike’s cock.

He finally stopped petting her and leaned forward on both hands. She had to push herself upright with one hand, but met his lips with her own. His hips were swinging harder now.

“Buffy,” he whispered against her mouth over and over. His rhythm became ragged and his mouth fell open as his brows drew together. He thrust one last time, impossibly deep, and grunted as he came, his cock bucking as he released inside her.

Buffy hummed happily, she always enjoyed watching him peak. He never failed to look slightly awed that it was her there with him. She petted his face and kissed him a few more times before untangling their bodies.

Spike lay down beside her, spooning against her back, his arm around her middle.

“Don’t go,” he said against her ear. “I can go again in a minute…just give me a tic to…”

“I think I need to sleep, it’s been a long, odd day for me.”

“Oh.” He sighed in clear resignation and his grip on her loosened, but she simply snuggled back against him.

“But I can do that here. Would you hold me?” The feelings she wasn’t willing to name yet glowed warmer.

“Yes!”

She was engulphed in his embrace and relaxed against him. The craziness of the world couldn’t touch her when she was in his arms.

Sleep was already trying to claim her. “I feel safe here with you.”

Spike pressed his face against the nape of her neck. “Buffy.”

“Safe,” she said again, hoping he had some idea what she meant. That his arms were the only place she found solace since being dragged from heaven back to the rawness of the world. “You make me safe.”

 

****

 

Spike woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright. He was cold and alone, the bed empty.

“Buffy,” he called. Where was she? She couldn’t have left already.

From beside him there was a pitiful mew and the cat he’d brought inside the night before rubbed its head against his side.

He dragged a hand down his face.

No.

No, no, god no. Please.

It’d been a dream. All of the sweetness Buffy had given him, and the warm feelings he’d seen in her eyes, it’d been nothing but a bloody dream. His heart sank. The fluffy, gray cat insisted on pushing its way into his lap as Spike sat on his bed, and he petted it with one hand. He’d had a lot of bizarre dreams lately, but this one took the sodding cake. The cat meowed louder and bumped its head against his chin. Damn, he missed Buffy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. This is all she wrote. (Unless someone reminds me that I have something stashed somewhere else).


End file.
